PRINCETON,  N.  J. 


\f^UL.€^^nJ     C/^ 


BV  2372\a1  S73  ISTOT      ^ 
Stevenson,  W.  Fleming  1832- 

1886. 
Lives  and  deeds  worth 

k-nowincr    ;5ihnnt 


V// 


LIVES  AND   DEEDS    WORTH 
KNOWING  ABOUT 

aSEitl}  otfjcr  fflisrcllanies 


V  .  ry^ i  ly^^  f  '^  *  ^ 


LIVES  AND  DEEDS  WORTH 
KNOWING  ABOUT 

smith  other  ^lisccllnnics 


By  the  Rev.  WILLIAM  F.  STEVENSON 

AU  IHOR   OF    "  I'RAYINC;   ANU   WOKKIXG  " 


NEW    YORK 

ROBERT    CARTER    &    BROTHERS 

No.  530  BROADWAY 

1870 


CONTENTS. 


PACK 
PASTOR   HAKMS    OF   HERKMANNSBURG     ...  .1 

HANS  egede's  mission ,33 

SPITTLER   AND    HIS   WORK 63 

CHRISTIAN   GOTTLOB   BARTH        .            .            .            ...            .       .  88 

BATSCH   AND   HIS   CO-WORKERS 100 

MADAME   ZELL 116 

GEORGE   NEUMARK 132 

MICHAEL   FENEBERG  AND   HIS   FRIENDS 154 

JOHN   HUSS 181 

MATTHEW   CLAUDIUS,    HOMME   DE   LETTRES         .            .            .       .  '208 

DR.    CHALMERS   AT   ELBERFELD 247 

ON   THE   BIOGRAPHY   OF   CERTAIN   HYMNS              .            .            .       .  267 

SOME   GUESSERS   AT   TRUTH 290 

ON   VAGABONDS            .            . 319 

LEBRECHT   FRIEDEFELD's   TRIALS 354 


PASTOE    HAEMS    OF    HEEEMANNS- 
BUEG. 


jITHIN  the  last  ten  years  a  small  country 
parish  in  Hanover  has  gained  a  singular 
notoriety  in  the  history  of  Missions.  It 
has  originated,  planned,  and  sustained  a  Mission 
of  its  own.  It  is  neither  large  nor  wealthy,  yet 
it  has  more  Mission  stations  abroad  than  some  not 
inconsiderable  Churches,  and  it  supplies  not  only 
money  but  men.  Familiar  as  we  are  with  brilliant 
missionary  enterprises,  this  seems  to  surpass  them ; 
and  it  rather  gains  in  interest  and  marvel  when 
we  know  that  it  is  the  work  of  one  man.  It 
is  from  the  parish  minister  that  the  impulse 
sprung :  the  conception  was  his  own ;  and  but 
for  his   undaunted,  simple-hearted  faith,   it   seems 


2       PASTOR  HARMS  OF  HERRMANNSBURG. 

unlikely  that  it  could  have  been  carried  out.  Now 
that  he  is  gone  to  his  rest,  it  may  be  worth  while  to 
look  into  his  life  ;  to  see  what  light  it  throws  upon 
his  work  ;  to  discover  by  what  power  he  did  so  much. 

Louis  Harms  was  born  in  Walsrode,  in  Hanover, 
in  1808,  the  son  of  the  clergyman  of  the  parish,  and 
when  he  was  nine  years  old  shared  the  family  migra- 
tion to  the  parish  of  Herrmannsburg.  Neither  the 
neighbourhood  nor  the  people  could  have  had  any 
great  attraction  for  a  man  of  ordinary  character. 
The  Liineburg  Heath,  in  which  Herrmannsburg  is 
situated,  would  be  to  most  eyes  bleak  and  monoto- 
nous; a  mere  vast  tract  of  heath  and  bog,  thinly 
inhabited,  and  poorly  tilled.  But  the  purple  heather- 
bloom,  the  deep  rich  colouring  of  both  cloud  and 
sunshine,  the  clear  broad  streams,  the  clumps  of 
wood,  and  the  sudden  valleys  that  dip  down  like 
crevasses  in  the  even  roll  of  the  country,  laid  hold  of 
Harms  with  a  powerful  fascination,  and  he  declared 
there  was  not  a  country  in  the  world  he  would  as 
soon  live  in.  The  people  might  be  ignorant,  but 
they  were  sturdy,  free,  and  independent,  like  the 
fresh  strong  winds  that  swept  their  heath ;  and 
Harms  had  a  firm,  strong  will,  a  determined  inde- 


PASTOB  HABMS  OF  HERBMANNSBURG.        3 

pendence,  and  an  unmistakable  individuality  of 
character.  From  the  first  he  was  attracted  to  the 
place,  and  seems  to  have  always  turned  to  it  with 
more  than  the  feeling  of  a  home.  At  school  and  at 
the  university  he  left  the  impression  of  great  ability 
and  the  most  rigorous  application ;  and  at  Gottingen, 
where  he  studied,  he  seems  to  have  conceived  the 
idea  of  ranging  through  the  whole  domain  of  human 
learning.  His  brother  states  that  it  was  to  satisfy 
the  unrest  of  his  spirit,  which  had  not  yet  found 
satisfaction  through  faith  in  Christ,  With  the  aid 
of  an  extraordinary  memory,  extraordinary  perse- 
verance, and  a  large  self-reliance,  he  made  rapid 
progress  in  his  studies,  and  became  the  pride  of  his 
fellow-students  and  his  home.  He  was  an  adept  in 
such  manly  exercises  as  a  German  university  will 
recognise,  in  fencing  and  swimming ;  and  he  had  a 
lofty  sense  of  truth,  and  a  purity  that  is  attributed 
to  his  passionate  love  for  his  mother,  and  that  made 
him  instinctively  shrink  from  many  sins.  "Bear 
up,"  he  wrote  in  a  friend's  album  about  this  time, 
"  although  the  last  prop  break,  and  all  is  lost,  if  you 
have  only  honour."  He  did  not  know  what  fear 
was  :  "  I  never  was  afraid  in  my  life,"  he  said.  He 
was   impetuous,  impatient,  not   very  considerate  of 

B  2 


4       PASTOR  HARMS  OF  HERRMANNSBURG. 

others,  imperious,  and  inflexible,  and  the  awe  of  his 
brothers  and  sisters.  It  was  a  mixed  and  very 
intelHgible  character;  a  character  that  he  always 
retained  in  its  main  features,  though  the  defects 
were  greatly  modified  by  the  grace  of  God.  The 
strict  morality  he  maintained,  passed  at  the  time  for 
Christian  life ;  and  in  a  Church  where  the  spirit  of 
religion  had  worn  down  to  be  a  form,  and  a  univer- 
sity where  almost  every  man  was  a  rationalist,  he 
found  little  encouragement  to  faith.  As  late  as  last 
year  he  ^vrote  that  out  of  the  two  millions  of  Christ- 
ians in  Hanover,  the  most  never  read  the  Bible,  nor 
went  to  the  Lord's  Supper,  nor  appeared  at  church  ; 
but  occupied  themselves  entirely  with  their  own 
concerns :  and  thirty  years  ago  the  picture  would 
have  been  less  favourable.  A  man  might  travel 
then  from  north  to  south  of  Hanover,  and  not  find  a 
single  faithful  pastor.  It  was  not  by  outward  cir- 
cumstances, but  against  them  that  he  was  led  to 
Christ.  As  he  sat  in  thought  one  night,  he  turned 
to  the  seventeenth  chapter  of  St.  John.  It  was  over 
this  prayer  of  our  High-Priest  that  the  light  came 
upon  him,  and  he  recognised  the  sacrificial  death  of 
Clirist.  Ignorant  of  fear,  yet  on  that  night,  he  says, 
when  he  was  brought  to  the  knowledge  of  his  sins, 


PASTOB  HARMS  OF  HERRMAJSNBBUEG.        5 

he  cowered  under  the  wrath  of  God,  and  trembled  in 
every  limb.  He  had  already  passed  through  much 
inward  conflict,  of  which  he  long  bore  the  traces  ;  no 
one  of  ordinary  intellectual  power  could  well  escape 
it  when  thrown  into  the  student  society  of  the  time. 
But  now  that  he  had  fairly  passed  out  of  it,  his  life 
assumed  a  new  direction.  He  left  Gdttingen  after  a 
final  brilliant  examination,  to  take  the  situation  of 
tutor  at  Lauenburg  for  nine  years.  His  design  of 
mastering  the  sciences  was  thrown  aside  ;  he  sought 
out  the  isolated  Christians  and  drew  them  into 
fellowship,  and  Lauenburg  held  always  a  dear  place 
in  his  memory.  He  removed  in  1839,  to  Liineburg, 
where  he  continued  his  Bible-meetings,  and  preached, 
though  still  holding  the  position  of  tutor.  His 
peculiar  mental  training  and  mental  conflict,  the 
firmness  and  entireness  with  which  he  held  the 
truth,  and  his  knowledge  of  many  forms  of  error, 
won  for  him  considerable  influence.  It  was  scarcely 
possible  to  resist  his  appeals  :  even  then  men 
noticed  the  deep  and  settled  peace,  and  felt  that 
nameless  but  powerful  impression  left  by  an  earnest, 
holy  man.  He  had  a  habit  of  looking  straight  into 
the  face  with  a  fixed  and  calm  glance  that  reached 
to  the  innermost  heart,  and  drew  out  a  frank  con- 


6       PASTOR  HARMS  OF  HERRMANNSBURG. 

fession  and  confidence.  During  this  time  he  had 
been  asked,  both  to  join  the  mission-house  at  Ham- 
burg and  to  go  to  New  York ;  but  his  passion  for  the 
Heath  overcame  every  other  feeling,  and  thirteen 
years  after  he  had  left  the  university,  he  joined  his 
father  at  Herrmannsburg ;  the  next  year  he  was 
appointed  his  coadjutor ;  and  on  his  father's  death, 
in  1848,  he  became  sole  pastor. 

He  now  fairly  settled  down  to  his  work.  It  was 
among  peasants  and  peasant  proprietors,  and  the 
people  who  would  be  found  in  a  common  country 
village.  Slowly  a  change  came  to  be  noticed  in  the 
parish.  The  careless,  stubborn,  and  ignorant  dimi- 
nished: the  farmers  came  more  regularly  to  the 
church  ;  ploughboys  sang  Luther's  hymns  instead  of 
country  ballads ;  in  houses  where  the  Bible  had  not 
been  opened,  it  was  daily  read ;  the  people  spoke 
frankly  on  rehgion,  and  were  gi-ave  and  quiet,  and 
came  to  be  known  as  Herrmannshurgher  at  the 
markets  and  fairs ;  and  any  stranger  who  passed 
that  way  would  notice  the  tidier  houses  and  brighter 
look  of  the  neighbourhood;  and  if  he  passed  at 
noon  would  be  amazed  to  hear  the  bell  peal  from 
the  little  wooden  spke,  and  to  see  in  every  field  the 
labour  stopped,  and  the   head  unbared,  at  prayer. 


PASTOE  HARMS  OF  HEBBMANNSBUEG.        7 

and  to  hear  from  some  groups  of  haymakers,  or  at 
the  early  harvest,  the  measured  cadence  of  a  hymn. 
There  -was  evidently  some  remarkable  influence  at 
work  :  every  inquiry  traced  it  up  to  the  new  pastor. 
He  had  not  only  determined  to  work,  but  had  flung 
himself  upon  his  work  with  a  characteristic  impetu- 
osity, not  to  be  either  slackened  or  exhausted,  till 
he  could  work  no  more.  Woe  to  me,  he  once  said, 
if  I  live  to  be  both  old  and  strong.  He  preached 
four,  sometimes  five  times  every  Sunday,  and  his 
services  were  often  prolonged  to  three  hours.  He 
catechised  not  only  the  young  but  the  old.  He  came 
into  constant  intercourse  with  his  parishioners,  and 
led  them  into  the  fullest  intercourse  with  him.  And 
it  was  natural  that  labour  so  ardent,  so  fall  of  faith 
and  self-sacrifice,  of  a  man  whose  spirit  was  visibly 
touched  by  God's  Spirit,  and  his  Avords  with  God's 
word,  should  produce  a  singular  result.  Outwardly 
at  least  there  was  not  a  parish  in  Hanover  like 
Herrmannsburg.  It  recalled,  in  its  piety,  simplicity, 
gravity,  and  the  vigour  of  its  Christian  life,  in  the 
universal  and  apparently  hearty  service  of  God,  the 
full  and  happy  recognition  of  Jesus  Christ  the 
Saviour,  and  the  manifest  living  presence  and  ope- 
ration of  the  Holy  Ghost — in  all  these  it  recalled 


8       PASTOB  HARMS  OF  HEBBMANNSBURG. 

the  ideal  and  beautiful  pictures  painted  of  apostolic 
times. 

Almost  immediately  after  Harms  was  settled  in  his 
charge,  there  rose  before  his  soul  one  night,  he  says, 
the  words,  Neither  is  there  salvation  in  any  other, 
for  there  is  none  other  name  under  heaven  given 
among  men  ivherehy  we  must  he  saved.  He  could 
not  sleep  ;  "  for  it  continually  thundered  in  my  soul : 
Man,  what  hast  thou  done  to  help  so  many  perishing 
men  ?  I  had  no  other  answer  than,  Nothing.  The 
day  after,  I  went  to  some  of  them  that  believed,  and 
that  I  knew  loved  the  Word  of  God,  and  I  put 
before  them  that  we  must  do  something  for  the 
poor  heathen."  Elsewhere  he  wrote,  "  It  is  not  long 
since  there  came  to  Herrmannsburg  a  poor  disabled 
Candidat — disabled,  for  he  dared  no  longer  preach  ; 
poor,  for  it  had  been  his  habit  to  live  so  that  he 
had  nothing  over.  He  had  no  money  to  pay  his 
way ;  but  a  lady  presented  him  with  three  gulden, 
wrapped  in  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  tobacco,  and 
with  these  he  went  on  his  journey.  When  he  came 
here,  he  made  known  to  the  people  that  there  were 
heathens,  wi'etched  and  miserable.  Then  the  people 
said.  If  that  is  true,  we  must  help  them;  and  a 
widow  came  and  brought  six  shillings,  and  a  labourer 


PASTOB  HARMS  OF  HEBBMANNSBURG.        9 

sixpence,  and  a  child  a  silver  penny."     Suggestive 
hints  like  these  were  sure  to  act  powerfully  upon  a 
man  like  Harms.     The  zeal  for  God  which  had  been 
kindled  in  his  parish  was  easily  turned  upon  mis- 
sions ;  as  he  went  from  house  to  house,  the  words  he 
dropped  fell  like  seed  into  ready  ground  ;  what  was 
so  much  in  his  thoughts  worked  its  way  out  almost 
involuntarily   in   his   sermons;  and   when   he   took 
courage  and  proposed  to  his  neighbours  that  they 
would   be   their   own   missionaries,   twelve   stepped 
forward  and  said  they  were  ready.     At  that   time 
any  one  who  spoke  of  missions  was  laughed  at ;  to 
be  interested  in  them  was  considered  the  sign  of  a 
disordered  intellect ;    and  the  man  who  advocated 
them  was  deemed  scarcely   safe  except   in   prison. 
It  was  as  bold  an  act  of  faith  as  will  be  found  in 
the  history  of  missions,  when  Mr.  Harms,  in  such  cir- 
cumstances, brought  forward  his  proposal.     For  he 
did  not  suggest  an  annual  sermon,  a  collection,  that 
they  might  help  some  existing  society,  or  that  they 
might  support    a    missionary — proposals   which,   in 
this  country,  vfould  not  fill  us  with  any  surprise,  yet 
above  which  a  congiegation  never  soars ;  but  in  the 
midst    of    general   indifference    and    contempt    for 
missions,  he  put  it  to  a  group  of  peasants  and  small 


lo     FASTOR  HARMS  OF  HERRMANN 8BUBG. 

farmers,  witli  no  doubt  much  of  the  prejudice  and 
ignorance  of  their  class,  to  volunteer  for  missionary 
service,  and  to  take  the  entire  burden  of  supporting 
a  separate  mission.  He  seems  to  have  felt  that 
what  was  done  at  Antioch  might  be  done  again, 
and  not  to  have  distrusted  that  where  the  Spirit  of 
God  works,  a  right  and  lofty  enthusiasm  is  always 
possible.  "  If  not,  it  were  surely  the  stupidest  folly 
if  I  touched  this  work  with  so  much  as  a  finger." 
No  doubt  he  went  about  it  thoughtfully,  and  not  by 
rash  impulse ;  for  enthusiasm  is  not  made  up  of  even 
any  number  of  sudden  impulses  ;  and  no  doubt  his 
thoughtfulness  made  him  rest  his  appeal  on  the 
primitive  ground  of  faith,  and  to  condemn,  with 
perhaps  too  sweeping  words,  the  mere  mission  work 
which  becomes  a  fashion  in  the  Church,  and  to  which 
people  give  because  it  is  the  custom.  He  had  no 
patience  with  the  principle  by  which,  "having  had 
a  new  coat  for  ourselves,  we  will  bestow  the  clippings 
on  the  heathen."  "As  a  believing  Christian,"  he 
asserted,  "  you  cannot  help  carrying  on  mission  work 
with  all  earnestness  and  with  all  your  heart,  though 
you  should  have  to  do  it  alone."  "  Generous," 
"  Good,"  "  Manly,"  men  are  disposed  to  say  :  but  he 
was  satisfied  that  it  was  right. 


PASTOR  HARMS  OF  HERRMANNSBURG.      u 

House-room  was  not  difficult  to  obtain,  for  one  of 
the  yeomen  who  had  volunteered  brought  his  farm 
with  him  as  a  gift  to  the  mission.  Aided  by  his 
brother,  Harms  began  the  suitable  training  of  these 
men,  and  led  them  over  a  very  suitable  and  extensive 
course  of  theology,  taught,  no  doubt,  in  its  practical 
aspects,  and  adapted  to  the  position  and  habits  of  the 
students.  Africa  was  fixed  on  for  a  mission  field ; 
the  students  and  all  the  parish  fell  heartily  into  the 
project;  and  the  only  remaining  difficulty  was  the 
expense  of  transit.  A  sailor  who  had  joined  the 
mission-house  suggested  the  building  of  a  ship; 
it  would  be  their  own  property,  would  perform  all 
their  journeys,  and  might  earn  as  much  by  freight 
as  would  maintain  it.  Harms  stepped  boldly  into 
this  undertaking  also,  and  commissioned  a  ship,  the 
Candaee,  to  be  built  at  Harburg ;  and  this  being 
ready  in  due  time,  sailed  in  the  end  of  1853  with 
eight  missionaries,  two  smiths,  a  tailor,  a  butcher,  a 
dyer,  and  three  labourers  on  board,  and  took  them 
safely  to  Natal.  They  had  intended  to  make  their 
way  to  the  Gallas,  the  most  desperate  tribe  of  Eastern 
Africa ;  but  as  the  Imaum  at  Mombaz  had  refused 
them  passage  through  his  land,  they  sought  to  pene- 
trate through  Natal  among  the  Kaffirs,  and  work 


12     PASTOR  BARMS  OF  HERRMANNSBURG. 

their  way  northwards,  planting  stations  as  they  went. 
This  entire  mission  project  was  of  large  outline.  It 
embraced  missionaries  distinctively  to  teach,  and 
colonists  distinctively  to  labour  ;  yet  the  missionaries 
were  not  to  shrink  from  work,  nor  the  colonists  from 
teaching.  It  was  conceived  that  these  colonies 
might  be  made  partly  self-supporting,  that  the  sta- 
tions would  thus  be  more  stationary,  that  settlements 
would  be  formed,  on  which,  if  necessary,  the  outposts 
could  fall  back.  It  was  the  transference  of  an  en- 
tire Christian  community  to  a  heathen  people,  to 
live  among  them  as  Christians,  and  with  the  one 
object  of  introducing  Christianity.  It  was  also  a 
bold  and  large  conception  to  push  up  these  colonies 
through  hostile  tribes  and  over  tracts  unknown  to 
Europeans,  to  link  them  in  a  long  chain,  and  at  every 
halt  in  the  patient  march  to  spread  the  knowledge 
of  the  Gospel.  So  this  little  peaceful  army  contem- 
plated fighting  their  way  till  they  had  conquered  the 
land  for  Christ.  It  was  grand  enough  work  for  a  king- 
dom, tedious  and  difficult  enough  to  task  the  energies 
of  an  entire  Church  ;  but  it  was  projected  by  a  single 
man,  and  to  be  carried  out  by  a  single  parish. 

The  ship  had  not  long  sailed  when   the  vacant 
places    in    the   mission-house   were    filled.      Fresh 


PASTOR  HARMS  OF  HERRMANNSBURG.      13 

volunteers  came  forward,  other  colonists  were  ready 
to  share  the  privations  of  their  brethren ;  and  as 
often  as  the  Candace  returned  she  was  sent  out 
again  with  fresh  supplies  of  men.  It  was  a  great 
drain  upon  the  parish  ;  but  there  is  scarcely  a  corner 
of  Germany  from  which  there  is  not  an  emigration, 
and  Herrmannsburg  could  as  well  spare  its  people 
to  Africa  as  to  America.  Upwards  of  forty  have 
sometimes  left  at  once ;  and  forty-eight  young  mis- 
sionaries are  always  in  training.  For,  as  the  need 
became  greater,  the  zeal  of  the  people  kept  pace 
with  it,  and  five  years  ago  a  hundred  offered  them- 
selves in  a  body.  The  training  has  grown  more 
systematic ;  the  students  continue  to  be  examined 
and  tested  by  the  supreme  ecclesiastical  tribunal, 
and  depart  with  their  authority  and  sanction  ;  and 
almost  uniformly  they  have  turned  out  well.  It  was 
in  the  comparative  leisure  of  waiting  for  the  first 
tidings  of  the  ship  that  Mr.  Harms  planned  another 
work.  Touched,  as  some  of  the  best  of  his  country- 
men were  about  that  time,  by  the  position  of  dis- 
charged convicts,  it  struck  him  that  to  improve  it 
would  be  a  righteous  mission  at  home.  Suspected, 
and  possibly  tainted  by  imprisonment,  they  found 
an  honest  calling  almost  impossible,  and  their  sym- 


14     PASTOR  HARMS  OF  HERRMANNSBURG. 

patties  and  habits  had  been  perverted  to  crime.  If 
they  had  some  shelter  till  the  possible  good  in  them 
was  strengthened,  some  time  of  probation  that  would 
stamp  them  again  with  an  honest  mark,  and  some 
kindly  and  firm  friend  to  watch  them,  they  might 
be  restored  to  society.  A  neighbourhood  so  peaceful, 
orderly,  and  Christian,  and  so  far  away  from  the  stir 
of  life,  seemed  to  Harms  favourable  for  the  experi- 
ment. A  farm  was  bought  large  enough  to  employ 
the  men  in  tillage,  one  of  the  parishioners  took 
charge  of  it,  and  the  Asylum  has  since  kept  its 
doors  open  to  those  who  came,  with  various  results, 
but  a  preponderating  success.  About  the  same 
time,  also,  it  became  necessary  to  start  a  Missionary 
Magazine.  It  was  impossible  to  satisfy  all  who 
wished  to  hear  of  their  friends  in  Africa,  by  letter. 
The  interest  rapidly  spread  out  of  the  neighbour- 
hood, and,  indeed,  out  of  Hanover,  and  to  meet  the 
demands  made  upon  his  time  and  pen.  Harms  took 
refuge  in  printing.  It  was  well  also  that  the  young 
missionaries  should  become  familiar  with  type ; 
they  might,  if  it  proved  necessary,  print  their  own 
books,  and  set  up  a  press  among  the  heathen.  A 
modest  beginning  was  made  at  the  mission-house  with 
a  monthly  missionary  paper  ;  hymn-books  and  cate- 


PASTOB  HARMS  OF  HERBMANNSBUEG.      15 

chisms ;  reprints  sufficiently  accurate  and  orthodox 
to  satisfy  so  thorough  an  antiquarian  and  sound  a 
Lutheran  as  the  pastor;  sermons  preached  in  the 
village  church  ;  and  other  volumeS;  followed  ;  and 
the  press,  never  idle,  brings  in  an  annual  profit  of 
six  hundred  pounds.  While  Mr.  Harms  was  under- 
taking these  fresh  labours,  he  took  nothing  from  the 
old.  His  parish  was  as  closely  tended,  his  services 
were  as  numerous,  his  activity  and  minute  self- 
sacrifice  as  remarkable  :  and  while  his  influence  was 
thus  spreading  at  home,  he  was  able  after  ten  years 
to  sum  up  such  results  as  these  abroad  : — "  In  the 
year  1853  our  first  missionaries  sailed  from  Ham- 
burg, and  as  they  entered  on  their  work  in  1854, 
our  mission  in  Africa  is  now  ten  years  old.  "We 
have  there  the  following  mission  stations,  Herrmanns- 
burg,  Ehlanzeni,  Etembeni,  Miiden,  New  Hanover, 
Empangweni,  Enhlangana,  Sterkspruit,  Emakabeleni, 
Emonjeni,  Emlalazi,  Endlangabo,  Injesane,  Isisin- 
gisingi,  Entombe,  Ehlomohlomo,  Etaka,  Emyati, 
Enhlonyana,  Etombe,  Ekombela,  Linokena,  Goyon, 
Litheyane.  and  two  that  are  not  yet  completed. 
Besides  the  necessary  dweUings  and  offices  at  these 
stations  for  the  missionaries,  colonists,  and  for  some 
of    the    converted    Kaffirs,   there    are    six    pretty 


i6     PASTOR  HARMS  OF  SERRMANNSBURG 

churches,  small  and  great,  and  the  stations  are  sur- 
rounded by  tilled  fields  and  gardens.  Herrmanns- 
burg  has  the  look  of  an  imposing  village,  and  hun- 
dreds of  cattle,  almost  a  thousand  sheep,  and  many 
horses  and  swine  roam  through  the  fields  :  poultry 
crowd  the  farm-yards,  and  smiths,  carpenters,  wheel- 
wghts,  shoemakers,  tailors  and  others,  all  have  their 
workshops.  Avenues  of  gum  trees  run  through  the 
streets,  and  beyond  the  town  are  little  forests  of 
peaches.  In  Herrmannsburg,  Etembeni,  Litheyane, 
Linokena,  and  Goyon,  there  are  altogether  one 
hundred  and  ninety  baptised  natives,  of  whom  one 
hundred  and  thirty  are  Bechuanas,  and  sixty  are 
Kaffirs;  in  New  Hanover  there  are  two  baptised 
families,  and  in  Ekombela  the  first  baptised  Zulu. 
At  several  stations,  such  as  Empangweni,  where  all 
seemed  dead,  there  is  now  life.  The  Bechuanas  are 
increasing  their  attendance  at  school,  so  that  there 
are  more  than  a  hundred  scholars  at  Linokena,  and 
even  the  old  chief,  Moilve,  learns  his  letters,  spec- 
tacles on  nose.  This  hath  God  wrought,  the  same 
God  who  so  often  and  so  sharply  smote  us,  but  who 
hath  not  turned  away  his  grace." 

These  last  words  show  that  the  mission  was  not 
exempt  from  trial.     Those  who  went  out  first  were 


PASTOR   HARMS  OF  HEBIIMANNSBUEG,      17 

roughly  enough  received ;  sent  from  coast  to  coast, 
suspected  in  one  place  as  democrats,  in  another  as 
Jesuits,  and  obliged  at  last  to  make  such  shift  as  they 
could.  The  Candcice  was  sometimes  in  danger  ;  was 
at  one  time  maliciously  inserted  in  the  Shipping-list 
as  lost,  and  was  not  always  fortunate  in  a  captain. 
Rumours  were  spread  of  the  most  ridiculous  sort  :  as 
that  Harms  had  fled  to  America  with  the  mission- 
chest,  that  he  had  fitted  out  the  Candace  as  a  pri- 
vateer, manned  her  with  Malays,  and  was  watch- 
ing vessels  at  the  mouth  of  the  Elbe.  Living  was 
found  more  expensive  than  had  been  supposed; 
and  the  way  north  to  the  Gallas  was  sometimes 
suddenly  threatened  or  closed.  There  were  deaths, 
and  alas  !  even  mutual  recriminations  and  dissensions, 
and  some  of  the  oldest  missionaries  and  one  or  two 
of  the  colonists  split  off  from  the  main  body,  and 
stations  were  seriously  crippled  and  forsaken.  Some 
of  these  were  serious  trials,  and  painful  enough  to 
bear  ;  but  it  all  came  right  in  the  end  ;  the  seces- 
sionists returned;  and  last  year  there  were  fresh 
openings  and  encouragements.  The  missionaries 
were  already  located  with  Sechele  and  the  Be- 
chuanas,  with  Umpanda  and  the  Zulu  Kaffirs,  and 
had  hopes   of  pressing   on  through   Mosele-Katse's 


1 8     PASTOE  HABMS  OF  HEBRMANNSBUEG. 

people.  They  have  now  a  firm  hold  on  another 
tribe,  the  Mamagale,  who  were  mixed  up  with  the 
Bechuanas,  and  shared  the  confusion  of  the  present 
Boer  war.  One  of  them  had  been  taken  prisoner  by 
the  English;  and  carried  away  to  Kaffraria.  When 
there  he  became  a  Christian,  and  returned  to  his 
people  to  tell  them  of  Christ.  He  begged  books  on 
every  side,  and  taught  them  to  read  in  Dutch  and  in 
the  Bechuana  tongue,  so  that  when  they  clustered 
round  the  Herrmannsburg  missionary,  and  he  settled 
among  them,  there  were  at  once  fifty  candidates  for 
baptism.  A  new  station  has  been  opened  there, 
called  Bethany — a  village,  laid  out  with  six  streets 
and  a  church  and  school — and  already  seventy-eight 
persons,  including  two  of  the  four  chiefs,  have  been 
baptised.  "  The  women  do  much  for  the  spread  of 
God's  kingdom,  even  those  that  are  not  baptised. 
In  the  largest  village  there  is  a  woman,  yet  unbap- 
tised,  who  every  evening  makes  a  great  fire  in  the 
open  space,  collects  the  young  people  about  her,  and 
teaches  them  often  till  midnight."  Altogether,  over 
one  hundred  and  twenty  have  been  baptised  by  the 
missionaries  last  year  alone,  and  not  after  super- 
ficial, but  thorough  and  most  painstaking  training. 
At  home  the  asylum  for  prisoners  continues  to  give 


PASTOR  HARMS  OF  HERRMANNSBURG.      19 

satisfaction ;  some  of  the  former  imiiates  have  died, 
it  is  believed,  in  faith  ;  from  others  in  England  and 
elsewhere  grateful  letters  have  been  received  and 
good  accounts;  and  as  an  institution  the  farm  is 
almost  self-supporting.  So  strong  does  the  mis- 
sionary life  continue,  that  it  has  overflowed  its 
first  limits,  and  six  missionary  clergymen  have  been 
sent  to  America,  one  to  Australia,  and  one  to  India. 
The  last  mission  was  established  through  a  curious 
coincidence.  Mr.  Nagel,  of  Hamburg,  who  has  been 
banker,  shipper,  and  factotum  to  Harms,  had  a 
brother-in-law  in  the  Telugu  Mission.  This  mission 
was  not  supported,  and  the  missionary,  a  loyal 
Lutheran,  begged  for  help  from  Herrmannsburg. 
Mylius  had  been  formerly  an  Indian  missionaiy,  but, 
returning  w^ith  shattered  health,  he  had  been  for 
thirteen  years  in  the  Frederiken-Stift,  in  Hanover. 
When  the  matron  of  this  Stift  died,  the  old  love  for 
India  grew  warm  in  his  heart ;  and  he  wrote  at  this 
time  to  Harms,  "  Send  me  to  the  heathen,  to  Africa, 
anywhere  you  will,  only  send  me  to  the  heathen  ; " 
there  was  also  over  £300  in  the  mission  treasury.  It 
appeared  impossible  to  mistake  the  drift  of  these  cir- 
cumstances, and  Mylius  is  now  in  Telugu,  expecting 
fresh  helpers  from  the  inexhaustible  little  parish. 

c  2 


20     PASTOB  EABMS  OF  HEBRMANNSBUBG. 

During  these  certainly  not  inexpensive  labours, 
Harms  never  seems  to  have  wanted  money.  His 
theory  was  pecuhar.  He  made  no  appeal  in  anjr 
pubKc  way  save  to  his  own  church  ;  his  people  were 
poor ;  he  was  not  in  favour  with  the  wealthy ;  he 
made  no  literal  acknowledgment  of  money  forwarded. 
He  was  a  reticent,  self-contained  man,  not  given  to 
babbhng  out  his  own  counsel,  and  he  seldom  talked 
of  a  plan  until  he  was  prepared  to  execute  it.  Yet 
he  wrote  of  help  mysteriously  sent  from  places  with 
which  he  had  no  communication,  and  at  the  times 
when  he  needed  it.  "  God  be  thanked,"  he  says, 
"  that  I  have  no  need  to  beg  from  men.  Through 
Jesus  Christ,  my  great  High-Priest,  I  go  joyfully  to 
the  throne  of  grace,  and  I  pray  with  assured  confi- 
dence that  I  shall  receive  grace  when  I  have  need  of 
it.  Therefore  I  say  to  Him,  '  Dear  Jesus,  thou 
wiliest  that  this  mission  be  carried  on  :  but  see,  here 
is  one  want,  and  there  is  another.'  Verily,  though 
you  should  require  a  thousand  crowns  or  more,  you 
would  not  apply  there  in  vain."  His  way  of  keeping 
accounts  was  in  unison.  "  In  the  whole  course  of 
the  year  I  never  make  a  comparison  between  income 
and  expenditure.  What  is  given  I  take,  and  what 
is  to  be  spent  I  spend.     In  this  way  I  spare  myself 


PASTOR  HARMS  OF  HERRMANNSBURG.      21 

all  anxiety  about  how  far  tlie  money  will  reach  ;  and 
on  the  day  before  the  annual  festival  I  reckon  up." 
As  a  theory  this  is  subject  to  grave  objections,  and 
requires  unusual  conditions  ;  but  in  Mr.  Harms'  case 
it  worked  well.  It  requires  a  larger  faith,  a  deeper 
mutual  confidence,  a  more  genuine  simplicity  and 
wisdom,  than  are  readily  found  ;  but  gTanted  that 
under  certain  circumstances  it  is  possible,  and  there 
is  no  doubt  of  its  superior  ease — above  all,  of  the 
advantage  it  gives  of  a  more  habitual  personal  de- 
pendence upon  God,  His  parish  supported  him  with 
an  unsurpassed  devotion  and  self-sacrifice.  Some  of 
his  parishioners  have  handed  him  £50  and  £100  at 
once ;  some  who  had  no  money  have  presented  him 
with  property ;  and  all  have  laid  their  gifts  down  in 
the  open  and  generous  spirit  of  the  early  Church ; 
they  gave,  indeed,  what  they  had,  and  with  a  patient 
and  cheerful  stinting  of  themselves  that,  were  it 
general,  would  revolutionise  our  missions.  "  A  short 
time  ago,"  he  once  wrote,  "  I  had  to  pay  a  merchant 
on  behalf  of  the  missions  550  thaler,  and  when  the 
day  drew  near  I  had  only  400.  Then  I  prayed  to 
the  Lord  Jesus  that  He  would  provide  me  with  the 
deficiency.  On  the  day  before,  three  letters  were 
brought :  one  from  Schwerin  with  twenty,  one  from 


22     PASTOR  HABM8  OF  HEBBMANNSBUBG. 


Buckeburg  with  twenty-five,  and  one  from  Berlin 
with  one  hundred  crowns.  The  donors  were  anony- 
mous. On  the  evening  of  the  same  day  a  labourer 
brought  me  ten  thaler,  so  that  I  have  not  only 
enough,  but  five  over."  "  Last  year,"  he  said  in 
1858,  "  I  needed  15,000  thaler,  and  the  Lord  gave 
me  that  and  sixty  over ;  this  year  I  needed  double, 
and  the  Lord  has  given  me  double  and  140  over." 
He  has  never  withdrawn  from  his  work  for  want  of 
means  ;  as  it  has  expanded  he  has  always  found  his 
means  expand.  And  this  will  be  best  seen  from  the 
accompanying  table  : — 


Expendi- 
ture. 

Income. 

Profit  of  the  Printing  Press, 
included  in  Income. 

1854  

Thaler. 
14,950* 
9,642 
14,878 
14,781 
30,993 
30,432 
28,136 
36,503 
42,838 
37,135 
38,709 
37,870 

Thaler. 
15,000 
9,722 
14,978 
14,796 
31,133 
33,065 
31,582 
39,476 
40,012t 
40,321 
40,904 
.  40, 618  J 

Thaler. 

2,600 
3,785 
9,707 
3,094 
4,765 
4,000 
4,114 

1855  

1856  

1857  ...  

1858  ... 

1859  

I860 

1861 

1862  

1863  

1864  

1865  

336,867 

351,607 

32,065 

£50,530 

£52,741 

£4,811 

*  Including  the  "building  of  the  ship. 

+  A  deficit  covered  by  a  balance  in  hand. 

X  For  10  months  only.     And  this  exclu.sive  of  two  donations, 


PASTOR  BARMS  OF  HERRMANNSBVRG.      23 

Besides  money,  an  extraordinary  variety  of  other 
gifts  was  poured  into  tlie  treasury.  Clothing,  farm 
produce,  school-books,  and  endless  et  ceteras  accumu- 
lated for  the  annual  meeting  each  year  *  If  there 
was  building  to  be  done,  tradesmen  gave  their  time 
and  farmers  their  horses.  Nothing  apparently  that 
could  be  given  was  withheld. 

It  is  surprising  to  read  of  gifts  so  various  and  con- 
fusing in  their  prodigality ;  but  it  is  at  least  as  sur- 
prising that  the  mission  has  been  maintained  for  so 
little.  At  the  two  mission-houses  and  farms  there  are 
about  70  people,  48  of  them  students ;  at  the  Kefuge 


one  of  2000  thaler,  since  paid  ;  and  a  legacy  of  2500,  left  by  a 
yeoman  who  had  wished  to  sell  his  farm  and  enter  the  mission- 
house  ;  but,  hindered  in  that,  had  bequeathed  this  sum,  payable 
at  the  end  of  last  year. 

*  Here,  for  example,  is  the  curious  collection  for  last  year : — 
"  Shirts,  720  ;  shifts,  132  ;  children's  shirts,  65  ;  frocks,  170 ;  bed- 
ticks,  50  ;  pillow-ticks,  40  ;  sheets,  50  ;  pieces  of  linen,  42  ;•  pieces 
of  towelling,  15 ;  linens,  110  ;  towels,  37  ;  pocket-handlcerchiefs, 
110  ;  neckcloths,  220  ;  aprons,  48 ;  coats,  24 ;  woman's  dress,  1  ; 
woollen  stockings,  800  pair  ;  women's  and  children's  caps,  Q5  (in- 
cluding 3  golden)  ;  a  gixat-coat,  some  waistcoats,  under- jackets, 
twine,  thread,  woollen  yarn,  sewing  needlco,  knitting  needles,  steel 
pens,  copy-books,  books,  cups,  plates,  thimbles,  toys,  children's 
stuff,  many  sacks  of  wheat,  buckwheat,  linseed,  and  peas  ;  calves, 
geese,  butter,  fresh  and  dried  fruit,  jeef,  cabbage,  turnips  of  vari- 
ous sorts,  wheaten  meal,  eggs,  saiy  ages,  bacon,  lard,  ham,  honey, 
hay,  straw,  and  fire-wood. 


/ 


24     PASTOR  HABMS  OF  HEBBMANNSBUEG. 

farm  for  the  j)risoners  about  20  ;  about  160  settlers 
have  been  sent  out  to  Africa,  and  those  of  them  who 
are  missionaries  are  of  course  entirely  dependent  on 
Herrmannsburg ;  there  are  about  thirty  stations — 
New  Herrmannsburg,  the  oldest,  having  a  population 
of  109  ;  and  these  missionaries  have  been  equipped 
and  transported,  the  ship  built  and  maintained, 
churches  and  dwelling-houses  erected  ;  upwards  of 
50,000  acres  taken  in  Africa,  and  a  farm  purchased 
at  home ;  a  printing-press  set  up,  and  commodious 
biiildings  finished  for  the  missionaries  in  training. 
To  obtain  thes6  results  for  the  money  that  was  spent 
shows  very  clearly  not  only  a  mse  administration, 
but  the  advantage  of  a  parochial  mission.  The 
official  exj)enditure  was  reduced  to  the  minimum, 
and  on  Mr.  Harms'  theory  there  was  no  expense  in 
collecting  funds.  Deputations  and  travelling  secre- 
taries were  unknown.  The  missionaries  were  sent 
out  loaded  with  affectionate  gifts,  more  like  sons 
leaving  home  for  a  new  country  than  so  many  clergy- 
men at  given  salaries  and  fixed  outfits ;  and  they 
were  ready  and  urged  to  live  simply,  busily,  and 
roughly,  to  beware  of  being  fine  ladies  and  gentle- 
men, and  to  remember  that  they  had  been  plain 
people   of  the   Heath.     It  would  be  too   much  to 


PASTOB  HAEMS  OF  HEBBMANNSBURG.      25 

expect  many  parishes  like  that  in  Hanover ;  yet  the 
parochial  working  of  our  missions  might  be  more 
developed.  It  would  not  only  be  an  economy,  but 
a  gain  to  the  simplicity  and  the  spirit  of  the  work. 
It  would  require,  indeed,  men  with  something  of 
Mr.  Harms'  temper,  his  devotion,  energy,  and  self- 
sacrifice.  Of  men  exactly  like  him  the  Church  has 
porduced  few. 

He  was  charged  with  the  entire  collection  and 
distribution  of  the  money ;  he  maintained  a  constant 
correspondence  with  all  the  stations;  he  superin- 
tended much  of  the  education  of  the  missionary 
students ;  controlled  and  planned  for  the  Asylum  ; 
edited  and  wrote  most  of  his  Missionary  Magazine  ; 
and  watched  the  printing-press.  Sometimes  for  a 
year  together  he  would  thus  be  chained  to  his  desk 
twelve  hours  a  day.  It  was  already  more  than  one 
man's  labour ;  he  was  secretary,  treasurer,  principal, 
committee,  and  something  over.  Yet  this  was 
merely  an  addition  to  the  work  of  pastor  that  he 
undertook  at  his  ordination  and  carried  out  with 
unflinching  fidelity  and  pains.  His  sermons  were 
carefully  studied  and  written  in  a  clear  hand,  though 
fifteen  to  sixteen  pages  of  large  octavo  in  print  did 
not  occupy  half  that  space — even  unabbreviated — 


26     PASTOR  HABMS  OF  HERBMANN8BURG. 

in  manuscript.  They  had  a  large  circulation,  for  of 
the  two  years'  that  were  published  the  press  threw 
off  more  than  80,000  copies ;  and  they  bear  every 
mark  of  care,  and  of  accurate,  painstaking,  faithful 
teaching.  And  besides,  he  found  leisure  for  much 
reading  and  for  antiquarian  pursuits  of  a  nature 
proverbially  tedious.  He  had  never  married,  he 
said  he  was  too  busy ;  and  it  is  doubtful  if  one  so 
energetic  and  self-consuming  would  not  have  felt 
home  ties  a  burthen ;  if  he  would  have  been  satis- 
fied with  a  wife  less  actively  employed.  He  had 
nothing  to  fall  back  upon  but  work ;  and  yet  there 
is  a  joyous  ringing  sound  in  his  words,  a  hearty 
laughter,  a  free  and  quiet  humour  that  almost  imply 
leisure  and  rest.  And  they  are  the  more  noticeable 
because  his  health  was  indifferent.  From  the  hour 
of  his  conversion  he  scarcely  had  a  day  without 
pain.  He  was  smitten  by  protracted  and  most 
painful  sicknesses,  so  that  those  who  knew  him 
would  wonder  how  it  was  that  a  man  should  suffer 
so  much.  The  thin,  sunken,  wasted  cheeks,  the 
deep  eyes,  the  firm  calm  will  about  the  mouth  on 
which  there  often  broke  the  sweetest  smile,  the 
pained  look  that  wore  away  under  the  constant 
enthusiasm,  were  familiar  to  all  the  parish,  and  they 


PASTOR  HARMS  OF  HEBBMANNSBUBG.     27 

carried  a  gentle  message  to  every  sufferer.     No  con- 
stitution could  hold  out  at  such  a  rate  of  living,  and 
his  friends  began  to  fear  that  each  public  appearance 
would  be  the  last.     The  tall  figure  and  elastic  step 
were  not  met  so  often  on  the  Heath.     Then  the 
mission  meeting  came  round  in  June,  and  he  was 
wheeled  to  the  church  in  a  chair.     He  could  not 
climb  the  pulpit,  but  preached  from  the  communion 
table.     Preaching  there  as  late  as  the  5th  of  Novem- 
ber, he  sighed,  "O  Lord  Jesus,  if  I  can  no  longer 
preach,  take  me  from  the  earth.     Of  what  use  can 
I  be,   if  I   can  no   longer   speak   of  Thee .  to  my 
brethren?"     Soon  after,  he  accompanied  a  funeral. 
The  next  was  his  own.     His  death  was  the  first  rest 
he  had  taken,  "dead-tired  and   dead-faint,  an  old 
man  of  fifty-seven  years,  but  a  young  man  in  the 
fire  of  his  spirit.     The  last  hours  of  his  life  were 
full  of  unspeakable  pains,  but  his  mouth  overflowed 
with  prayers.     His  last  prayer  was.  Help  me,  0  God, 
ahuays;  make  me  ready  for  everlasting  joy  and 
felicity.     Come,   Lord  Jesus.     I  can  hear  it  no 
more.     Neither  his  consciousness  nor  his  faith  was 
disturbed  for  an  instant,  and  as  he  slept  away  at  last, 
his  wish  was  fulfilled,  0  Lord,  in  ;pains  of  death, 
grant  me  a  quiet  countenance.    Help  me,  that  when 


28     PASTOR  BARMS  OF  HERRMANNSBURG. 

my  heart  breaks  it  may  break  softly,  and  my  life 
go  out  like  a  light,  without  other  woe,  quenched  in 
the  innocent  blood  that  Thou  didst  shed  for  me." 

"We  cannot  believe/'  said  his  friends,  "that  our 
Harms  is  dead."  Herrmannsburg  had  jQlled  up  every 
year,  for  two  long  summer  days  of  mission  festival. 
The  people  poured  by  thousands  into  the  streets  of 
the  quiet  village,  a  peasant's  festival,  Harms  said ; 
"  distinguished  and  high  people  did  not  come,  towns- 
people only  a  few.  There  were  even  few  pastors ; 
elsewhere  hundreds  go  ;  but  there  will  be  tAventy,  or 
at  most  thirty,  with  us."  They  heard  him  preach 
and  read  his  report;  they  heard  the  head  of  the 
mission-house  with  his  statistics;  they  sang,  and 
listened  to  the  choir  of  forty  voices,  as  they  lifted  up 
their  glorious  chorales  to  accompanying  harmony  of 
trumpets  blo^n  by  the  peasant-students  ;  they  joined 
in  their  fervent  liturgy  ;  and  after  service  in  and  out 
of  church,  that  lasted  from  morning  till  night,  the 
kindly,  hospitable  village  received  its  guests,  and 
found  mysterious  room  for  them  all.  By  daybreak 
the  next  morning,  the  murmur  of  family  worship 
broke  through  the  street ;  and  in  the  early  sun  all 
the  villagers  and  their  guests  poured  out  along  some 
quiet  road  cleft  through  the  purple  heather;   and 


PASTOR  HARMS  OF  HEREMANNSBUBG.      29 

from  every  farm  and  by-path  a  rivulet  of  people 
flowed  into  the  stream.  Thus  they  went  on,  singing 
their  hymns  by  the  way,  till  in  some  secluded  vale 
they  halted,  and  till  near  sunset  the  time  was  spent 
in  hearing  missionary  addresses,  varied  with  psalms 
and  prayers.  On  these  days  Harms  was  especially 
the  moving  spirit ;  every  one  looked  for  him — every 
one  felt  his  presence.  On  the  l7th  of  November, 
1865,  a  greater  crowd  than  ever  filled  the  streets : 
but  no  joy  streamed  from  their  faces ;  people  moved 
and  met  in  silence  ;  tears  stood  in  almost  every  eye. 
"The  darling  of  the  Christian  people,  the  father  of 
his  congregation  and  the  mission,  the  great  teacher 
of  the  Church  was  no  more.  He  lay  in  a  little 
room  of  the  voiceless  vicarage ;  on  his  face  the 
orave  earnestness  of  death  and  the  peace  of  God 
Neither  wife  nor  children  wept  about  his  bier,  but 
his  spiritual  children  took  their  place.  The  coffin 
was  borne  away  covered  with  flowers  and  crowns, 
and  burning  lights  upon  it.  Then  rose  the  deep 
psalm,  more  wept  than  sung— 

'  All  men  that  live  must  also  die.* 

It  was  one  of  his  favourites,  that  he  had  sung  hun- 
dreds of  times  as  he  followed  his  own  children  to  the 


30     PASTOR  HABMS  OF  HERBMANNSBURG. 

grave My  brother  once  said,  '  We  pastor's 

children  have  no  home  on  earth.  When  the  father 
dies,  we  must  leave  the  house  where  we  were  born. 
But  we  have  another  home  in  our  dear  church  ! ' 
So  the  body  lay  in  this  home,  and  round  it  stood  the 
thirty  preachers,  and  his  mission  students,  and  in 
and  about  the  church  many  thousands.  Beloved 
Niemann  was  present  to  represent  the  High  Court 
of  the  Consistory,  and  by  charge  of  the  royaJ  family 
to  lay  upon  the  coffin  five  palms  and  five  wreaths 
from  the  King  and  Queen,  the  Crown  Prince,  and 
the  Princesses.  And  then,  with  solemn  words  and 
broken  prayers  and  solemn  psalms  they  buried  him. 
*  A  dear  heart  is  stilled,  a  precious  life  is  over.' " 

"  What  was  it,'*  said  Niemann,  "  that  made  his 
lips  eloquent,  that  gave  his  teaching  a  living  sin- 
cerity, his  words  a  mighty  force,  his  often  eager  voice 
ever  the  sweetest  tone  ?  What  was  it  that  flamed 
in  his  rebukes,  that  quickened  his  entreaties,  that 
breathed  in  his  simple  prayers  and  drew  the  soul  up 
with  him  to  God  ?  What  else  than  that  to  him  to 
live  ivas  Christ  ?  What  was  it  that  made  his  heart 
the  heart  of  his  people,  that  helped  him  to  share  all 
the  sorrow  and  want  and  sin  of  the  parish  and  of 
every  one  in  it  with  warm  sympathy,  that  led  him 


PASTOR  HARMS  OF  HERRMANNSBURG.     31 

after  the  erring,  and  made  him  the  most  welcome 
visitor  to  the  sick  and  afflicted,  that  helped  him  to 
receive  with  gentle  kindness  the  weak  and  fallen 
that  made  him  seek  out  the  publicans  and  sinners, 
that  made  the  doubting  and  despised  cling  to  him, 
and  the  penitent  and  anxious  open  their  hearts,  and 
gave  him  to  see  many  a  sinner  turned  from  the  error 
of  his  ways,  and  many  a  soul  saved  from  death  ? 
What  else  than  that  to  him  to  live  was  Christ  f 
What  was  it  that  made  him  work  with  such  self- 
denial  and  sacrifice  for  the  kingdom  of  God,  that 
made  him  find  in  it  his  highest  joy,  his  jDeace,  his 
all,  that  helped  him  to  carry  it  on  year  by  year,  day 
by  day,  and  even  hour  by  hour,  without  the  need  of 
rest,  that  kept  him  from  forgetting  the  near  in  the 
far,  and  the  far. in  the  near,  reaching  out  to  Chris- 
tians and  heathen  the  same  helpful  hand,  that 
enabled  him  to  kindle  in  many  a  heart  the  like 
spirit  of  sacrifice  for  the  mission  work,  so  that  the 
people  builded  mission  houses  with  their  own  hands, 
and  he  builded  up  this  parish  of  Herrmannsburg 
into  an  evangelical  mission  parish  ?  What  else  than 
that  to  him  to  live  was  Christ  ?  What  was  it  that 
kept  him  undaunted  by  any  difficulty,  made  him 
fear  no  want,  held  him  unmoved  by  mockery,  con- 


32     PASTOR  HABMS  OF  HEBRMANNSBURG. 

tradiction,  contempt,  and  laughter  of  the  world, 
made  him  cleave  bravely  to  his  plan  through  what- 
ever struggle  with  the  powers  of  darkness,  that  held 
together  the  perishable  tabernacle  so  that  he  faith- 
fully carried  out  his  manifold  work  through  many 
trials,  and  unspeakable  afflictions,  and  bodily  pains, 
and  never  left  it  till  his  last  breath,  and  when  he 
lay  prostrate  would  rise  again,  and  run  and  not  be 
weary,  and  walk  and  not  faint  ?  It  was  this,  that  to 
him  to  live  ivus  Christ." 


HANS    EGEDE'S    MISSION. 


fOME  years  ago  I  went  mih  a  friend  to 
the  Mission  House  at  Barmen.  It  was  a 
Sunday  afternoon  in  winter,  and  under 
tlie  clear  stars  groups  of  peasants  and  artisans  came 
trooping  into  the  large  saal.  They  filled  every  corner 
save  that  reserved  for  the  young  missionaries  ;  and 
presently  one  of  the  old  hymns  of  the  German  Church 
was  lifted  up  by  a  body  of  strong  voices,  too  strong 
almost  for  the  room.  There  was  to  be  what  is  called 
a  Missionsstunde,  or  an  hour  with  the  missionary, 
especially  intended  for  the  pupils  of  the  House,  but 
at  which  the  good  people  of  the  Wupperthal  took 
special  care  to  be  present.  The  point  of  departure 
was  Greenland,  and  the  speaker  had  soon  riveted  the 
attention  of  the  meeting  by  a  simple  lively  sketch 


34  HANS  EGEBWS  MISSION. 

of  the  early  fortunes  of  tlie  Mission.  It  struck  us 
both  at  the  time  so  much  that  I  venture  to  repro- 
duce Herr  Wildenhahn's  story,  with  but  little 
abbreviation. 

The  Lifoden  Islands  lie  off  the  thinnest  part  of 
Norway,  and  separated  from  the  mainland  by  the 
narrowest  of  straits.  The  long  deep  fiords  pierce  them 
in  all  directions,  and  image  in  their  calm  mirrors  the 
summer  sunshine,  and  the  stars,  and  the  flashing  of 
the  great  Northern  Lights.  They  are  not  thickly 
peopled ;  but  the  region,  with  its  vast  cliffs  rising 
precipitously  from  the  dark  waters,  and  its  fir 
woods  moaning  plaintive  music  to  the  winds,  looks 
more  wild  and  inhospitable  than  it  is.  Patches 
of  tilled  land  dot  the  slopes  of  the  hills,  the  hunts- 
man's horn  rings  merrily  in  the  forest,  every  rocky 
nook  by  the  shore  has  its  fishing-boat,  and  every 
stream  the  music  of  its  little  mill.  Villages, 
too,  quaintly  roofed,  lie  in  sunny  sheltered  spaces, 
and  the  sleigh  bells  tinkle  merrily  through  the 
long  evenings,  and  guests  from  neighbouring  farms 
assemble  in  cheerful  homes  round  the  great  log- 
fires.  As  the  spur  of  a  ridge  of  rocky  mountains 
in   these   islands   descends   into    the   West    Fiord, 


HANS  EGEDE'S  MISSION.  35 

it  clasps  the  quiet  northern  hamlet  of  Vaagen, 
nestled  most  of  the  year  among  its  snows,  and 
inhabited  by  quiet,  sturdy  Norwegian  peasants  and 
farmers. 

A  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  the  village  pastor 
was  a  Dane  by  birth,  and  had  been  settled  in  his 
charge  at  twenty-one.  He  was  popular  with  the 
people,  and  happily  married ;  and  lived  among  the 
simple  Northern  folk  the  quiet  life  of  a  true-hearted 
man  of  God.  With  little  incident,  save  funeral  and 
baptism,  the  time  rolled  away,  until  the  clergyman's 
wife  brought  him  a  fourth  child,  whom  his  father 
named  Paul. 

"  My  son,"  he  said,  "  thou  shalt  be  called  Paul  in 
honour  of  the  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles." 

"  But  why,"  said  his  wife,  "  do  you  look  so  sad  ?  " 

"I  can  scarcely  tell,"  he  answered,  slowly;  then 
added  in  a  brighter  tone,  "  You  must  not  vex  your- 
self, dear  wife  ;  for  as  soon  as  I  know  the  will  of  the 
Lord,  you  shall  know  it.  We  must  be  still  and 
wait." 

For  all  this  the  shadow  never  passed  off  the 
clergyman's  face.  Even  the  villagers  began  to 
notice  it,  and  would  say,  What  can  be  troubling  our 
minister?      His  wife   grew  uneasy.      At  last,   one 

D  2 


36  SANS  EGEDE'S  MISSION. 

Sunday,  as  they  sat  together  after  the  service  in  the 
church :  "  You  must  not  think  it  is  mere  curiosity 
or  impatience/'  she  said,  "  but  I  cannot  bear  to  see 
you  suffer  this  sorrow  alone.  Do  tell  me  what  it  is. 
You  said  we  were  to  wait  on  the  mil  of  the  Lord ; 
has  He  shown  you  His  will  ?  " 

''I  will  tell  you  everything,"  he  replied.  "The 
Lord  has  greatly  blessed  us  in  our  home  and  in  my 
ministry ;  and  I  might  be  the  happiest  man  in  all 
the  kingdom,  if  my  heart  were  not  full  of  the  poor 
heathen,  who  walk  in  darkness,  and  know  not  of  the 
grace  of  God  in  Christ.  It  makes  me  sad  to  think 
of  them  ;  and  night  and  day  I  hear  a  voice,  saying  : 
'  Thou  art  rich ;  wilt  thou  give  nothing  to  thy  poor 
brethren  ? ' " 

"  What  poor  brethren  do  you  mean  ? " 
"  If  you  were  to  take  ship  here  and  sail  five 
hundred  miles  out  into  the  west,  you  would  touch 
an  island  called  Iceland ;  and  sailing  farther  into 
the  west  from  that,  you  would  reach  a  mighty  region 
called  Greenland,  a  land  girt  about  with  ice,  yet,  as 
the  skip23ers  tell,  so  rich  in  meadows  and  flowers 
that  they  have  called  it  the  green  land.  Thousands 
of  poor  heathen  live  there,  and  thither  would  I  go  to 
preach  the  Gospel." 


HANS  EGEDE'S  MISSION.  37 

'*  God  forbid  !  "  Elizabeth  cried,  with  a  great  start. 
"  A  thousand  miles  away !  How  have  you  ever 
come  to  think  of  it  ? " 

"  It  was  the  Lord's  doing.  Three  years  ago  an 
ancient  chronicle  fell  into  my  hands,  and  there  I 
read  that  about  the  year  982  Greenland  was  dis- 
covered by  our  countrymen  of  Norway.  The  Gospel 
was  preached  in  it ;  and  the  old  chroniclers  say  that 
the  Lord  converted  many  dear  souls.  Ships  sailed 
thither  and  thence  for  four  hundred  years ;  till, 
about  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century,  the  ice 
waxed  so  exceeding  great  that  no  one  could  enter  or 
depart ;  and  in  about  the  same  time  the  black  pest 
broke  out  over  Europe,  and  communication  with 
Greenland  was  broken  off,  and  so  has  continued  for 
nigh  three  hundred  years.  And  still  the  word  says 
in  my  soul,  What  about  the  poor  Greenlanders  ? 
Has  the  last  spark  of  light  perhaps  been  quenched 
by  the  darkness  ? " 

"  And  what  can  you  do  ? " 

"  If  I  were  the  only  Christian  that  felt  this,  and  if 
the  Lord  had  thus  chosen  me  out  to  preach  the 
Gospel  to  the  Greenlanders,  could  I  refuse  to  go, 
without  sin  ?  " 

"A  thousand  miles!"  Elizabeth  cried,  with  new 


38  HANS  EGEDE'8  MISSION, 

terror,  "into  a  land  girt  about  with  ice,  and  to 
which  no  one  can  come.  Will  you  leave  your 
beloved  congregation  ?  Do  you  forget  your  wife 
and  children  ?     Could  we  follow  you  ?  " 

^'  If  the  Lord  will  that  cannot  hinder.  The  Lord 
will  feed  my  sheep,  and  you  and  the  children  will 
come  with  me." 

"  No,  no,"  cried  his  wife  through  her  tears.  "  The 
bare  thought  of  it,  that  the  poor  children  and  I 
should  travel  a  thousand  miles  over  the  wide  waste 
sea,  among  the  many  shipwrecks,  into  a  land  that  is 
set  round  with  icebergs — dear  husband,  is  it  not 
tempting  God  ?  What  can  you  do  that  you  may  not 
do  here  1  Are  you  not  serving  the  same  Lord  that 
you  would  serve  in  Greenland  ?  Has  He  not  called 
you  to  this  work  ?  And  can  you  lay  down  an  office 
w^hich  you  have  from  Himself?  " 

"  If  the  Lord  calls  me  to  another  office,  shall  I  not 
do  w^hat  becometh  His  servant  ? " 

"You  cannot  thus  stay  my  fears.  You  are  the 
pastor  of  this  congregation  ;  and  you  know  I  have 
never  complained,  though  you  should  not  see  us 
from  morning  till  evening.  I  know  that  your  wdfe 
and  children  have  no  claims  on  you  till  your  congre- 
gation is  served.     But  are  we  not  a  part  of  your 


HANS  EGEDE'S  MISSION. 


39 


congregation  ?  Are  you  not  also  our  shepherd  ? 
and  how  can  you  think  of  others  without  first 
caring  for  your  own  ?  If  you  were  alone  in  the 
world  it  would  be  something  different ;  but  you  are 
husband  and  father.  Dearest  husband,  I  beg  of 
you,  think  no  more  about  leaving  us." 

He  shook  his  head,  and  smiled  sadly,  as  he  replied 
to  this  appeal :  "  Christ  saith  :  Whoso  loveth  father 
or  mother,  or  wife  or  child  more  than  me  is  not 
ivorthy  of  me" 

"Nor  is  it  for  our  sakes  alone,"  she  continued, 
with  increasing  energy,  and  heedless  of  his  quota- 
tion. ''  You  have  poor  kinsfolk  here,  dependent  on 
your  help.  They  have  no  one  but  you.  If  you  go  a 
thousand  miles,  so  goes  their  succour.  There  is  your 
poor  sick  sister,  that  lives  with  us.  If  you  go  to 
Greenland,  must  Dorothy  go  to  the  poorhouse? 
You  will  save  heathens  and  bring  sorrow  upon 
Christians." 

It  was  denunciation  rather  than  declamation  ;  and 
the  man  sat  still  in  anguish  before  he  answered  : 
"  You  rend  my  heart  in  twain,  Elizabeth.  I  cannot 
resist  your  pleading,  but  for  all  that  I  have  no  rest. 
Believe  me,  the  Lord  will  have  me  do  something.  I 
am  certain  of  that." 


40  HANS  EGEDE'8  MISSION. 

"Well,  tliat  may  be,"  rejDlied  his  wife,  conscious 
and  liappy  that  for  the  present  her  point  was  gained 
and  the  danger  averted.  "You  think  of  following 
the  will  of  the  Lord  ;  but  are  you  certain  that  His 
will  means  Greenland  ?  If  you  are  to  preach  to  the 
heathen,  may  it  not  be  another  land  ?  My  advice 
would  be,  to  wait  on  the  Lord  in  patience,  and  if  it 
be  His  will  He  will  make  it  plain.  Will  you  wait, 
Hans?" 

"Dear  wife,  you  have  not  said  that  of  yourself, 
but  the  Lord  has  spoken  by  you.  Yes  ;  I  will  wait." 
And  he  murmured  to  himself,  "  Wccit  on  the  Lord 
and  He  will  strengthen  thine  heart,''  and  smiled, 
like  a  man  free  from  heavy  cares. 


Four  years  passed  away  in  quiet  parish  work. 
Greenland  seemed  hidden  and  forgotten  behind  its 
icebergs ;  and  though  it  lay  back  in  the  heart  of 
both  husband  and  wife,  it  never  came  up  in  conver- 
sation. The  country-folk  saw  the  cloud  vanish  from 
their  minister's  face,  and  the  little  Paul  found 
nothing  but  smiles  and  happy  caresses. 

One  morning  Hans  entered  the  room  with  a  light 
step. 

"  Should  we  not  give  account  of  our  stewardshij) 


HANS  EGEDE'S  MISSION.  41 

in  God's  kingxlom,  dear  wife,  and  prove  the  signs, 
whether  they  be  of  God  ? " 

"  What ! "  said  Elizabeth,  sick  with  the  old  terror, 
"  has  He  showed  any  ? " 

"Many  and  wonderfid,"  replied  her  husband,  as 
he  laid  three  letters  on  the  table.  "  The  first  is 
from  Drontheim,  through  our  worthy  Bishop  Krog. 
The  good  man  writes  to  me  that  I  must  go  to  Green- 
land; he  is  full  of  joy  and  hope,  promises  all  pos- 
sible support,  and  makes  my  going  almost  a  matter 
of  conscience.  Well,  what  say  you  to  the  first 
sign?" 

"  I  would  hear  the  second." 

"  That  is  from  Bergen,  from  Bishop  Randulf.  He 
writes  likewise  that  I  must  go,  and  he  writes  almost 
in  the  very  words  of  Bishop  Krog.  Is  it  not  won- 
derful?" 

"And  the  third  sign?" 

"  The  most  wonderful  of  all.  It  comes  both  from 
Denmark,  my  old  fatherland,  and  from  Norway,  my 
adopted  land.  The  richest  of  our  merchants  have 
undertaken  to  reopen  the  trade  with  Greenland. 
And  the  dear,  good  men  promise  one  of  their  ships 
for  me  and  my  family.  They  will  provide  us  with 
the   necessaries   of   life,    and   leave   some   of   their 


42  HANS  EGEDE'S  MISSION, 

people  behind  as  a  trading  colony,  so  that  we  will 
not  be  alone.  Why  are  you  so  silent,  dear  wife  ? 
Is  it  not  wonderful  and  gracious,  and  the  very  hand 
of  Gfydl" 

Elizabeth  had  sat  still,  overwhelmed  with  grief. 
Her  heart  was  never  with  Greenland;  and  this 
conversation  had  brought  up  the  old  alarms  of  years 
before.  The  happy  life  about  her  threatened  to 
dissolve  before  this  strange  fancy  of  her  husband; 
and  each  sign  as  it  came  was  like  the  clay  thrown  in 
upon  the  bared  coffin.  Her  eyes  filled  with  sudden 
tears,  and  her  voice  trembled  as  she  snatched  up 
little  Paul  and  pressed  him  to  her  bosom,  and  said, 
"Dearest  husband,  with  my  soul  I  say  to  you  as 
Ruth  to  Naomi,  Whither  thou  goest,  I  will  go ;  and 
where  thow  lodgest  I  ^uill  lodge;  thy  people  shall  he 
my  people,  and  thy  God  my  God.  Where  thou  diest 
will  I  die,  and  there  will  I  he  hurled :  the  Lord  do 
so  to  me,  and  more  also,  if  ought  hut  death  ]part 
thee  and  me.  But,  dear  Hans,  you  will  forgive  me, 
if  I  wish  to  know  more  fully  of  these  signs,  how 
they  came  about.  How  did  it  come  that  the 
Bishop  of  Drontheim  knew  you  would  go  to  Green- 
land?" 

The  minister  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  said, 


KANS  EGEDE'S  MISSION.  43 

half-asliamed,  "  Well,  I  wrote  him,  laying  tlie  matter 
before  him,  and  asking  his  advice." 

"And  how  did  the  Bishop  of  Bergen  come  to 
write  to  you  ? " 

"Well/'  said  the  minister,  hesitating  more  than 
before,  "  I  wrote  also  to  him." 

"And  how  did  the  Danish  and  Norwegian  mer- 
chants come  to  think  of  reopening  the  trade  with 
Greenland?" 

"Well,  I  must  confess  I  wrote  to  them  all,  and 
stirred  them  up.' 

Elizabeth's  face  was  slowly  brightening  as  her 
husband's  slowly  lengthened  during  this  confessional. 
With  a  quiet  smile  she  continued,  "And  is  that 
what  you  mean  by  waiting  on  the  Lord  in  iDatience  ? 
Is  there  anything  wonderful  in  the  good  bishops 
writing  when  you  pressed  them?  If  you  tell  a 
merchant  of  a  trading  venture,  is  it  anything 
wonderful  he  should  embark  in  it  ? " 

"  Well,  and  what  would  you  say  ? " 

"  That  I  cannot  be  sure  that  all  this  is  the  won- 
derful working  of  God.  You  have  taught  me  your- 
self to  call  that  wonderful  which  happens  against 
our  expectation,  and  without  the  ordinary  use  of 
means ;  but  is  not  all  this  your  own  work  ?     The 


4 
44  HANS  EGEDE'S  MISSION. 

bishops  and  the  merchants  have  only  followed  your 
suggestions ;  the  one  knows  that  it  is  not  everybody 
that  will  go  to  Greenland  to  preach  the  Gospel,  and 
the  others  know  that  a  Christian  minister  settled  in 
Greenland  would  make  an  excellent  interpreter,  and 
encourage  the  traders  that  settle  m  the  colony. 
What  is  there  wonderful  in  their  consent  ? " 

The  minister  was  troubled.  "It  makes  me  sad, 
dear  "wife,"  he  replied,  after  a  moment,  "  to  find  you 
so  zealous  against  my  joy  in  God  and  my  love  to  the 
poor  heathen.  Is  it  not  wonderful  that  the  Lord 
should  keep  this  thought  of  Greenland  in  my  heart  ? 
If  the  bishojos  approve  of  my  going,  I  take  it  as  a 
sign  of  God's  good  pleasure.  It  is  not  so  easy  to 
establish  a  mission  in  that  land  of  ice,  and  they 
must  have  given  it  grave  consideration  before  they 
promised  help  ;  nor  is  there  anything  there  to  tempt 
the  hazard  of  our  merchants,  or  promise  them  repay- 
ment of  their  large  outlay.  Wife,"  he  continued, 
with  rising  w^armth,  "those  that  will  not  see  the 
wonders  of  God,  see  them  not :  but  those  whose  eyes 
are  open,  see  them  everywhere,  and  bow  before  the 
mighty  God  wdiose  ways  are  wonderful.'' 

Ehzabeth  felt  ashamed  that  she  had  not  responded 
to  her  husband's  enthusiasm.     She  sat  still,  reflect- 


HANS  EGEDE'S  MISSION.  45 

ing  how  much  nobler  he  was  than  she,  and  that 
though  the  signs  might  not  be  infallible,  yet  it  was 
her  selfishness  and  not  her  faith  that  opposed  them. 
She  might  even  have  yielded,  but  that  an  unex- 
pected auxiliary  made  his  appearance.  For  the  door 
opened  to  admit  neighbour  Lorentzen  at  the  head  of 
a  deputation,  "  Minister/'  he  began,  plunging  right 
into  his  subject  after  the  manner  of  deputations, 
"the  whole  parish  is  in  ginef  that  you  would  think  of 
leaving  us.  The  news  has  spread  from  house  to 
house.  What  have  we  done  that  you  should  forsake 
US'?  Are  we  less  worthy  of  you  than  the  Green- 
landers  ?  For  the  sake  of  the  souls  of  our  people, 
minister,  leave  us  not." 

"  You,  too !  Have  you  leagued  with  my  wife 
against  me,  or  rather  against  the  Lord  in  Heaven  ? " 

"  God  forbid  !  It  is  our  anxiety  for  the  souls  of 
our  people.  "Why  should  the  parish  be  starved 
because  you  will  go  to  Greenland  ? " 

"  My  dear  friend,  if  I  go  you  will  soon  find 
another  preacher  ;  but  if  I  do  not  go,  who  will  go 
to  Greenland  ?  And  I  say  that  not  of  pride,  but 
because  the  Lord  has  so  thrust  the  thought  into 
my  heart  and  made  me  feel  that  Greenland  is  my 
working  place." 


46  HANS  EGEDE'S  MISSION. 

"  We  are  simple  folk/'  said  Lorentzen,  "  and  what 
we  know  of  the  will  of  God  we  have  learned  from 
you.  But  you  used  to  prove  to  us,  both  out  of 
Scripture  and  the  History  of  the  Church,  that  often 
the  Lord  only  tries  us  as  He  tried  the  obedience  of 
Abraham ;  and  though  He  asked  the  sacrifice,  yet 
He  was  content  with  the  willing  spirit.  Might  it 
not  be  so  with  you  ?  " 

"It  might  be.  But  you  know  that  in  place  of 
his  son  God  provided  Abraham  with  another  sacri- 
fice. If  the  will  of  God  had  been  so  revealed  to 
me,  I  would  be  still." 

Answered  here,  Lorentzen  had  nothing  left  but  to 
return  to  his  direct  appeal. 

"  Must  the  prayers  and  lamentations  of  your  people 
for  their  minister  and  father  and  friend  count  for 
nothing  ?  Does  God  not  provide  a  sign  in  the 
thousands  of  tears  that  are  already  shed  at  the  bare 
thought  of  your  departure  ? " 

"  And  are  not  we  something  ? "  said  Elizabeth,  who 
could  no  longer  contain  herself ;  "  your  poor  children, 
and  your  wife,  who  would  die  if  she  went  with  you 
into  the  ice  land — and  your  Paul,  who  would  not 
survive  the  long  sea — and  your  kinsfolk,  who  must 
perish  without  you — are  these  not  offerings  provided 


HANS  EGEDWS  MISSION,  47 

by  God?  Has  not  God  given  you  to  me,  dearest 
husband  ?  Has  He  not  given  us  our  children  ? 
Have  you  not  received  your  people  from  his  hand, 
and  charge  to  feed  them  as  a  faithful  shepherd? 
What  drives  you  away?  No  need,  no  sorrow,  no 
ingratitude,  no  opposition,  no  enemy :  they  all  love 
you.  Is  not  the  bond  that  binds  you  to  us  of  God's 
own  making  ? " 

The  minister  was  deeply  moved.  He  turned  aside 
and  repeated  the  words  of  Paul,  What  Tnean  ye,  to 
weep,  and  to  break  mine  heart  ? 

"  Husband,"  cried  the  wife,  "  you  must  stay  with 
us." 

"  Minister,"  cried  the  men,  with  one  voice,  ''  you 
must  stay  with  us.  Wait  the  Lord's  will  in 
patience." 

The  minister  started.  "  That  is  marvellous,"  he 
cried.  ''  With  the  same  words  of  Scripture  that 
once  overcame  me,  you  take  me  captive  again.  Be 
it  so.  Once  more  I  will  draw  back.  This  time  I 
will  take  your  prayers  as  the  sacrifice  the  Lord  has 
provided.  But  mark  me  well.  If  the  Lord  calls  a 
third  time,  I  will  go." 

"  The  will  of  the  Lord  be  done,"  said  the  men 
reverently,  with  bowed   heads.     "  The   will  of  the 


48  EAN8  EGEDE'S  MISSION. 

Lord  be  clone,"  Elizabeth  murmured,  as  slie  pressed 
Paul  fondly  to  her  bosom. 


It  was  not  more  than  a  year  after  this  that  as  the 
minister  sat  in  his  study  absorbed  in  thought,  his 
wife  entered  unobserved.  Starting  from  his  reverie; 
and  surprised  that  she  should  be  there  at  so  unusual 
an  hour,  he  fancied  that  some  of  his  children  must 
be  sick.  It  was  not  that,  "but  I  came,"  she  said, 
"because  I  have  been  restless  for  weeks  past." 

"  Are  you  unwell  ? " 

"  Not  in  body ;  but  I  must  be  in  mind." 

"  And  you  have  never  told  me !  Well,  we  must 
put  it  to  rights.     What  is  it  ? " 

"  It  has  many  sources  ;■  and  yet  I  am  almost 
ashamed  to  mention  them,  lest  you  should  reproach 
me."  Then  suddenly  changing  the  subject,  she 
added,  "It  is  long  since  you  spoke  to  me  about 
Greenland.     What  do  you  think  of  it  now  ? " 

"  I  wait  patiently  on  the  Lord." 

"Really  patiently?  Have  you  done  nothing  to 
confirm  the  Lord's  will  ? " 

"  I  have.     I  have  prayed  often." 

"  Does  that  mean  you  have  jDrayed  that  tlie  Lord 
would  fulfil  your  wish  ? " 


HANS  EGEDE'S  MISSION.  49 

''  It  does  most  certainly.  And  if  you  reproach  me 
that  that  is  not  patience  but  impatience,  I  will  not 
gainsay  you.  Yet  I  can  get  no  rest.  Day  and  night 
the  Lord  puts  this  word  to  me  :  Whoso  loveth  father 
or  TYiother,  or  wife  or  child,  iinore  than  me  is  not 
ivorthy  of  me!' 

"  Has  the  Lord  given  you  no  signs  ? " 

"  None ;  save  that  the  old  signs  abide  as  a  heavy 
burden  on  my  soul.  But  you,  wife,"  he  continued, 
with  a  start  of  joy  gleaming  in  his  eyes,  "have  you 
signs  'i  This  is  the  first  time  that  you  have  spoken 
of  Greenland  of  yourself ;  is  this,  perhaps,  a  sign  ? 
Tell  me,  dearest  wife,  has  the  Lord  revealed  His  will 
to  you?" 

"  No,"  she  answered,  casting  down  her  eyes.  "  I 
have  said  already  that  you  will  laugh  at  me  if  I 
tell  you  the  cause  of  my  troubles.  There  are  many 
unfriendly  people  in  this  place." 

'■'  Has  any  one  done  you  hurt  ? " 

"  It  is  true.  You  would  think  they  had  conspired 
together  how  to  make  my  life  miserable.  There  is 
our  maidj  who  was  so  willing  and  kindly  at  first,  and 
for  weeks  past  she  has  vexed  me  by  her  idleness  and 
saucy  speeches.  Mrs.  Thomsen's  garden  is  divided 
from  ours,  you  know,  by  a  low  hedge,  and  it  may  be 


5o  HANS  EGEDE'S  MISSION. 

that  once  or  twice  the  children  have  made  their  way 
in  through  the  gaps,  as  children  will.  But  Mrs. 
Thomson  has  gone  about  saying  that  the  minister's 
children  dirtied  the  washing  and  tore  the  flowers, 
and  that  the  worst  of  them  was  young  Paul.  I  am 
quite  sure* it  was  the  neighbours'  children  did  it. 
For  three  weeks  I  have  kept  the  children  out  of  our 
garden,  and  yet  no  later  than  yesterday  Mrs.  Thomson 
declared  that  Paul  had  carried  off  a  whole  armful  of 
flowers.  Then,  as  you  know,  I  give  what  I  can  to 
the  poor.  Well,  a  week  or  two  ago,  old  Dieck  came 
to  me  and  begged  for  a  shirt,  and  the  same  day  old 
Holm  came  and  begged  for  a  coat  for  his  little  boy. 
And,  because  I  could  give  neither  the  one  nor  the 
other,  unless  I  had  taken  the  coat  off  Paul,  or  one  of 
your  own  four  shirts,  the  two  men  have  cried  me  up 
round  the  town  as  a  gi'eedy  and  hard-hearted  woman, 
and  said  that  the  last  minister's  wife  was  far  kinder. 
Yet  you  know  that  I  give  more  than  our  circum- 
stances perhaps  justify.  I  thought  you  would  laugh 
at  me ;  but  does  not  this  lying  and  ingratitude  vex 
you  ?  And  this  is  not  all.  There  is  the  Dorcas  :  and 
for  a  long  time  past  Mrs.  Wilmsen  makes  a  point  of 
opposing  every  proposition  of  mine,  and,  being  richer 
than  we  are,  she  carries  everything  against  me,  and 


HANS  EGEDE'S  MISSION.  51 

sets  the  ladies  against  nie  by  unneigliboiTiiy  ways ; 
so  that  I  am  made  like  a  stranger  and  a  sinner 
among  them.  Often  I  have  thought  I  would  with- 
draw, but  I  was  afraid  of  that  wicked  Leumund,  who 
would  say  I  did  it  because  I  did  not  care  for  the 
poor.  Don't  you  feel  for  me?  Before,  I  was  so 
happy  here  ;  and  now  I  feel  as  if  I  had  no  home." 

When  the  good  woman  checked  herself,  it  was 
because  she  expected  some  comforting  words  from 
her  husband ;  but  when  he  only  smiled  she  gTew 
vexed,  "  Hans,  have  you  no  comfort  for  me  ?  Have 
I  really  done  wrong  in  everything  ?  " 

''No,  no,  dear  wife.  I  neither  accuse  you,  nor 
excuse  you.  Forgive  me  if  I  think  not  of  what  you 
relate  so  much  as  of  its  consequences.  Tell  me  all 
that  is  in  your  heart,  for  I  know,  my  own  Lischen, 
there  is  a  hidden  thought.  Tell  me  now;  what 
would  you  like  to  do  ? " 

Elizabeth  flushed,  and  struggled  with  herself  for  a 
moment,  but  said  frankly,  "  My  hopes,  and  joy,  and 
peace  here  in  Vaagen  are  fled.  There  must  be  some 
other  place  where  it  will  be  better  than  here." 

"  And  where  may  that  place  be  ? " 

Elizabeth  was  silent. 

"  Suppose  it  was  Greenland  ?     I  see  you  shrink. 


52  HANS  EGEDE'S  MISSION. 

But  what  if  these  little  sorrows  are  a  sign  from  God  ? 
What  if  He  has  thus  begun  to  loosen  those  bands 
that  bind  you  to  this  little  spot  of  earth  ?  Elizabeth, 
the  ways  of  the  Lord  are  wonderful.  We  are  often 
so  childish  that  the  Lord  must  treat  us  like  children. 
But  for  that  old  calling  to  Greenland,  I  would  say  to 
you  :  '  Do  not  allow  these  little  annoyances  to  hinder 
your  duty.  These  are  the  thorns  that  spring  up 
about  all  roses.'  Now,  it  is  totally  different.  You 
know  we  have  been  waiting  for  signs.  The  Lord  has 
spoken  to  me  clearly  enough.  I  know  that  I  musi: 
go  to  Greenland.  May  not  these  trials  be  His  signs 
to  you  ?  I  do  not  press,"  he  continued,  "  for  an  im- 
mediate answer.  Bear  this  burden  before  the  Lord 
in  prayer,  and  to-morrow,  or  the  day  after,  or  the 
third  day,  tell  me  what  He  hath  answered." 

"  I  will,"  said  his  wife,  softly,  as  she  withdrew  in 
deep  thought  from  the  room. 

The  next  day  she  entered  his  room  with  a  bright, 
decided  face.  "The  Lord  has  decided,"  she  cried. 
"  Thank  the  Lord  with  me,  for  He  has  had  mercy  on 
the  folly  of  His  handmaid.  I  passed  half  the  night 
in  prayer,  and  I  was  heard.  The  Lord  will  have  it. 
I  go  with  you  to  Greenland ;  this  very  day,  if  need 
be.     When  I  asked  little  Paul,  this  morning,  as  the 


HANS  EGEDE'S  HUSSION.  53 

youngest  of  our  children,  if  we  should  go  to  the 
heathen  in  Greenland?  'Yes/  he  said,  'and  I  will 
tell  them  about  Christ,  and  teach  them  to  say  Our 
Father.''  "  And,  much  moved,  she  threw  herself  into 
her  husband's  open  arms. 

"  The  Lord  be  praised ! "  he  cried.  "  For  six 
years  have  I  longed  for  this  hour.  Now  it  has  come, 
and  all  my  troubles  are  forgotten.  The  Lord  bless 
thee,  dearest  wife  ! " 

"  And  will  you  forgive  me  all  my  selfishness  and 
stubbornness  ?  I  am  not  worthy  to  take  share  in 
your  work  of  love.  I  have  been  guilty  of  resisting 
the  will  of  the  Lord." 

"  Make  yourself  easy  on  that  point,  wife.  Do  you 
not  remember  the  words  of  the  Lord  to  the  two 
sons  ?  To  the  first  He  said,  '  Go,  work  to-day  in  my 
vineyard  ; '  he  answered  and  said,  '  I  will  not ; '  but 
afterwards  he  repented  and  went.  And  He  came  to 
the  second,  and  said  likewise,  and  he  answered  and 
said,  '  I  go,  sir,'  and  went  not.  Did  not  the  first  do 
the  will  of  his  Father  ?  And  are  you  not  like  the 
first?  May  the  first  thanksgiving  of  a  poor  saved 
soul  in  Greenland  be  the  seal  to  you  and  me  of  the 
wisdom  and  gTace  of  our  Lord  !  " 


54  SANS  EGEDWS  MISSION, 

On  the  same  day  the  minister  wrote  to  the  two 
bishops  of  Drontheim  and  Bergen  that  all  difficulties 
on  his  side  were  at  an  end,  and  that  every  day  he 
spent  now  in  Norway  was  a  burden  to  him.  Three 
years  of  those  days  were  permitted  to  try  his  faith. 
The  bishops  found  more  difficulties  than  they  had 
expected  :  the  merchants  went  slowly  to  work.  His 
faith  sometimes  wavered,  once  it  almost  sank. 
"  Wife,"  he  said,  one  day,  "  you  know  that  I  have 
never  troubled  myself  about  temporal  goods,  or  food 
and  raiment :  I  confess  I  may  have  thought  of  them 
too  little.  I  never  doubted  that  we  should  find  our 
daily  bread  in  Greenland;  and  I  knew  that  we 
should  lose  all  our  little  comforts  and  have  to  work 
with  our  own  hands.  But  there  are  six  of  us.  Does 
it  not  seem  almost  tempting  God  to  go  without  any 
care  for  food  and  raiment  and  shelter  into  that 
inhospitable  land  ?  The  merchants  hesitate  to  make 
any  promises,  and  the  bishops  have  not  yet  suc- 
ceeded in  obtaining  from  the  king  even  the  smallest 
annual  support.  If,  simply  to  go  to  Greenland,  I 
lay  down  my  office,  I  lose  all  right  to  a  pension; 
nor  can  I  expect  that  my  parish  will  support  two 
ministers,  one  in  Greenland  and  one  at  home.  I  am 
not  afraid  about  myself,  but  about  you  and  the  chil- 


HANS  EGEDE'S  MISSION.  55 

dren.     If  I  bring  you  to  hunger  and  nakedness^  will 
I  not  be  guilty  ? " 

"  Hans,  is  that  really  what  you  think  ?  " 
"  Why,  would  you  blame  me  if  I  remembered  that 
I  am  both  husband  and  father  ?     Have  not  you  and 
our  children  claim  upon  me  ? " 

"  We  have  the  claims  which  love  gives  and  takes 
and  hallows.  But,  dear  husband,  although  I  long- 
resisted  the  truth,  yet  I  always  knew  that  the  wife 
and  children  of  a  Christian  pastor  are  like  the  dogs 
of  the  Canaanitish  woman  in  the  Gospel — we  live  on 
the  crumbs  which  fall  from  the  table  on  w^hich  you 
feed  your  people.  First  your  office,  then  your 
house." 

"  But  is  not  my  house  a  part  of  my  people  ? " 
"  Certainly  ;  and  as  for  our  souls'  nourishment,  we 
sit  at  the  table  where  you  feed  souls  with  the  word 
of  God.  But  the  crumbs  are  what  remain  over  from 
your  own  time  and  strength  and  care.  I  know, 
Hans,  you  only  want  to  try  me  if  I  really  mean  to  go 
with  you  to  Greenland.  But  as  the  Lord  liveth,  I  go 
with  you  and  with  the  children ;  and  if  you  knew 
what  joy  fills  my  heart  at  the  thought  of  saving  these 
poor  heathen,  you  could  not  doubt." 
He  was  deeply  moved. 


56  HANS  EGEDE'S  MISSION. 

"  Wife,  your  faith  has  rebuked  my  unbelief,  I 
was  not  proving  you.  I  never  doubted  you  from 
that  blessed  hour.  But  I  am  the  weak  and  sinful 
man  who  would  keep  his  life,  and  will  therefore  lose 
it.  I  am  the  Demas  of  whom  Paul  says  that  he  for- 
sook him,  having  loved  this  present  world." 

"  You  must  not  judge  yourself  too  severely,"  said 
his  wife,  as  she  noticed  how  his  voice  trembled  and 
the  tears  ran  down,  his  cheeks.  "  It  is  but  your 
great  love  for  us  that  tempted  you.  He  wdio  feeds 
the  birds  and  clothes  the  flowers  will  also  give  us 
bread.  Let  every  thing  be  taken  if  we  only  keep 
the  Kingdom  of  God  !  " 

"  Amen  !  I  will  write  this  evening  to  the  Mission 
Board,  and  will  send  in  my  resignation  to  the  Town 
Council  and  the  Consistory.'* 

So  the  time  passed  on  with  torturing  slowness  till, 
in  the  spring  of  1721,  the  ship  that  was  to  carry 
the  minister  to  Bergen  sailed  into  the  harbour.  The 
whole  parish  was  up.  One  after  another  came  drop- 
ping in,  to  say,  "  Is  it  really  true  ?  And  you  are 
going  to  leave  us  1 "  The  parsonage  was  crowded 
with  weeping  groups,  and  the  minister's  courage  had 
almost  given  way.  But  his  wife  whispered  to  him, 
Whoso  loveth  father  or  mother,  wife  or  child,  friend 


HANS  EGEDE'S  MISSION.  57 

or  hrotlier  "more  than  me,  is  not  worthy  of  me.  Yet 
his  trials  were  not  over.  For  as  the  melancholy ' 
little  procession  wound  out  from  the  village  down  to 
the  beach,  a  boat  was  seen  to  land  some  sailors^  and 
as  the  minister  set  his  foot  on  the  plank  to  go  on 
board,  one  of  them  came  up. 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  "  might  I  make  bold  to  ask  for 
what  port  you  embark  ?  " 

"  For  Greenland." 

"  Then  in  God's  name  stay  at  home.  If  you  love 
your  life,  if  you  will  not  devote  your  wife  and  child- 
ren to  death,  stay  where  you  are.  Death  w^aits  for 
you  in  Greenland." 

"  How  do  you  know  ? "  said  the  minister, 
alarmed. 

"  Sir,  we  come  from  Greenland.  Cannibals  live 
there.  And  when  some  of  our  own  people  went  on 
shore,  over  fifty  Greenlanders  fell  upon  them,  beat 
them  to  death,  and  then  ate  them.  Sir,  sir,  do  not 
give  your  wife  and  children  a  prey  to  those  wild 
heathen  ! " 

The  minister  started  back,  smote  his  hands  toge- 
ther, and  cried,  "  Lord,  my  God,  help  me  !  Be  gra- 
cious to  me  !  I  cannot  lead  my  children  on  to  such 
a  death." 


58  HANS  EGEDWS  MISSION. 

"  Eight,  dear,  good  sir,"  shouted  the  people  who 
stood  by.  "  Stay  mth  us.  Despise  not  the  warning 
of  God." 

Whereupon  they  surrounded  him,  and  fell  on  his 
neck  with  tears,  and  took  the  four  children  by  the 
hand  to  lead  them  back.  Then  Elizabeth  stepped 
boldly  forward  on  the  plank,  and  cried  with  a  loud, 
clear  voice,  "  O  ye  of  little  faith  !  Ye  say  it  is  a  sign 
from  Heaven.  And  it  is  :  not  a  sign  to  return,  but 
a  sign  to  prove  our  faith  if  we  are  worthy.  Hans,  be 
a  man.  If  God  is  for  us,  who  can  be  against  us  ? 
Hearest  thou  not  the  prayers  and  sighs  of  the  hea- 
then in  Greenland  ?  Far,  far  over  the  sea  they 
pierce  into  my  ear.  You  know  that  the  need 
there  is  great.  It  is  greater,  it  seems,  than  we 
thought.  In  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ — in  the 
name  of  the  Triune  God,  I  call  on  you  to  follow 
me." 

With  these  words  she  walked  up  the  plank,  and 
sat  down  in  the  boat.  Her  husband  stood  for  a 
moment  overwhelmed  with  shame.  "  Lord,"  he 
prayed,  "  lay  not  this  sin  to  my  charge  ! "  then  took 
his  children  and  followed.  "  Onwards,  in  God's 
name  !  "  cried  Elizabeth  to  the  boatmen.  The  sail 
was  spread,  and  the  people  stood  weeping  on  the 


HANS  EGEDE'S  MISSION.  59 

shore.  And  in  the  boat  the  minister  wept  and  his 
four  children  :  but  his  wife  stood  up  against  the  mast 
with  great  sad  eyes,  and  her  whole  face  glowed  with 
holy  and  triumphant  faith. 


The  rest  of  this  story,  too  long  for  even  the  most 
elastic  Missionsstunde,  is  one  of  the  most  familiar 
yet  heroic  in  the  history  of  missions.  Even  at  Ber- 
gen, from  which  the  expedition  was  to  sail  out  into 
the  West,  hindrances  rose  unexpectedly.  Sailing  at 
last  in  the  good  ship  Hope,  they  found  no  green 
land,  but  endless  hummocks  of  ice,  along  which  they 
coasted  for  weary  days,  and  in  imminent  danger  of 
shipwreck,  until  they  landed  at  a  small  bay  and 
began  to  build  on  Hope's  Island.  The  people 
avoided  them ;  nor  for  seventeen  years  was  there 
much  of  Christian  life.  The  Greenlanders  were 
content  with  their  blubber,  and  cared  for  no  paradise 
without  it.  Every  miracle  of  the  Gospel  they 
matched  by  a  marvellous  tale  of  their  own  wizards ; 
every  story  of  the  Bible  by  an  Arctic  legend.  If 
they  were  discredited,  they  said  they  had  as  good  a 
right  to  be  believed  as  the  missionaries.  If  they 
were  asked  had  they  ever  seen  an  angekok,  they 
answered  by  asking  if  the  preacher  had  ever  seen  a 


6o  HANS  EGEDWB  MISSION, 

miracle.  In  another  direction  also  the  minister  was 
fated  to  disappointment.  The  traces  of  the  ancient 
colonists  were  pointed  out,  and  much  of  their  story 
was  told  with  that  tenacity  of  tradition  which  has 
enabled  Captain  Hall  to  recover  particulars  of  the 
old  expedition  under  Frobisher.  But  every  vestige 
of  Christian  learning  and  habit  had  vanished,  and 
the  Greenlanders  seemed  to  have  sunk  deeper  in 
barbarism.  Troubles  also  arose  with  the  colonists. 
The  traders  were  godless,  and  grew  reckless  as  they 
threw  off  restraint.  The  trade  was  as  slow  and  dis- 
appointing as  the  Mission.  But  through  all,  the 
minister's  wife  cheered  her  husband's  faith,  and  won 
a  holy  ascendency  over  the  rough  spirit  of  the  men. 
The  very  first  year  the  ship  that  had  been  promised 
with  annual  stock  of  provisions,  failed.  May  and 
June  passed,  and  the  slender  store  in  the  island  was 
almost  exhausted.  Disheartened  and  uneasy,  the 
colonists  came  to  the  minister  and  would  have  had 
him  embark  at  once  and  leave  their  home  in  the 
one  ship  that  lay  at  anchor.  When  he  refused, 
they  made  their  own  preparations,  and  pulled  down 
their  huts.  With  rough  kindness  they  advanced  to 
pull  down  his  own,  and  compel  him  on  board.  Sud- 
denly they  were  confronted  with  the  calm  presence 


HANS  EGEDE'S  MISSION.  6i 

of  the  minister's  wife.  ''  Are  ye  not  ashamed  ? "  she 
cried.  "  Ts  the  hand  of  the  Almighty  shortened  ? 
Know  ye  that  our  rescue  is  nigh  ?  The  ship  hath 
left,  but  contrary  winds  have  hindered  it.  Only 
wait  three  days  and  ye  will  see  the  salvation  of 
our  God."  Laughing,  mocking,  swearing,  and  blas- 
pheming, the  crowd  received  this  prophecy  with 
jeers,  "  Are  ye  men  ? "  she  cried  again.  "  Are  ye 
Christians  ?  Will  ye  show  yourselves  weaker  than  a 
weak  woman  ?  Will  ye  bear  home  the  message  of 
your  own  shame '.  Take  the  bread  we  have  kept 
for  our  children.  It  will  be  only  for  three  days,  and 
we  will  not  die  of  hunger."  They  stood  silent  and 
undecided.  "  If  there  be  a  man  or  a  Christian 
among  you,  let  him  hold  up  his  hand  that  he  will 
wait  till  the  third  day."  Sullenly  and  one  by  one 
the  hands  went  up,  but  the  men  swore  with  a  terri- 
ble oath  that  they  would  wait  no  longer,  not  an  hour. 
And  on  the  third  day  the  sail  rose  over  the  horizon, 
and  the  provision  ship  rode  in  the  harbour.  It  was 
a  crisis  in  the  Mission,  one  of  many.  In  ten  years 
more  the  colonists  had  left  the  missionary  alone. 
His  health  and  spirits  were  rapidly  breaking  down, 
when  the  Moravian  missionaries  cheered  him  by 
their  unexpected  arrival ;  but,  in  1735,  his  wife  died. 


62  HANS  EGEDW8  MISSION. 

And  Egede  took  her  bones  and  bore  them  over  the 
sea,  and  laid  them  in  the  church  of  St.  Nicholas  at 
Copenhagen.  In  Copenhagen  he  passed  the  remain- 
ing twenty  years  of  his  life  as  the  head  of  the  Col- 
lege for  training  Arctic  Missionaries.  But  behind 
him  he  left  the  little  Paul — a  minister  now  like  his 
father — and  a  Christian  colony  that  grew  into  gTeat 
power,  and  by  which  God  did  many  wonders  among 
the  heathen,  and  to  after  ages  a  name  of  most 
blessed  memory,  in  Hans  Egede,  the  Apostle  of 
Greenland. 


SPITTLER    AND    HIS    WOEK. 


|T  rained  all  mght  It  was  raining  in  the 
morning.  There  was  no  doubt  about  it. 
Out  of  the  window  there  was  a  leaden 
haze,  flecked  with  the  light  of  a  dull,  spiritless  dawn. 
Rain  was  falling  in  the  fountain,  streaming  past  the 
panes,  murmuring  on  the  roof;  a  trickling,  patter- 
ing, liquid  sound  that  went  up  and  down  the  silent 
street.  Sir  Francis  Drake  stood  it  out  unmoved,  like 
a  brave  old  English  mariner  as  he  was ;  but  the 
wreath  on  his  brow  was  battered  under  his  chin, 
and  the  garlands  hung  in  drabbled  tails  down  his 
back.  The  banners  clung  to  their  poles,  the  arch 
of  evergreens  was  like  a  weeping  willow,  and  the 
pretty  rifle  festival  of  Offenburg  had  ended  in  a 
wetting.  The  town  has  a  broad  street,  a  good 
hotel,   a   copy  of  the    Times,  and   a  weakness  for 


64  SPITTLEB  AND  HIS    WOBK. 

potatoes, — qualities  of  wliich  the  inexorable  rail 
permitted  the  briefest  enjoyment;  and  by  the  sup- 
posed time  of  sunrise  we  were  bowling  away  from 
it  at  an  easy  twenty  miles  an  hour.  The  carriage 
was  crowded  with  a  miscellaneous  company;  rifle- 
men in  tall  Tyrolese  hat  and  feather ;  farmers  with 
broad-brims,  long  coats,  great  buttons,  and  gigantic 
collars ;  market-women  with  hair  brushed  straight 
back,  and  tied  on  the  crown  with  broad  knots  of 
ribbon  or  lace,  while  the  peasant  girls  preferred  to 
fasten  it  with  a  two-edged  silver  knife  ;  a  student 
or  two  with  inevitable  spectacles  and  merry  humour; 
— pleasant,  honest  faces,  a  shrewd,  self-possessed, 
independent  folk,  who  kept  np  the  liveliest  con- 
versation, and  passed  the  dullest  jokes,  entered  with 
a  cheery  Good,  morning  all!  and  left  with  the 
friendliest  Adieus.  Your  Briton  resigns  himself  to 
the  rail  like  a  martyr,  prepares  his  mind  for  an 
accident,  grimly  suffers  himself  to  be  led  along  at 
express  speed,  builds  np  a  wall  of  newspaper  about 
him,  or  harrows  his  feelings  with  a  sensation  article. 
Talk  would  be  frivolous  and  impertinent  in  such  a 
temper,  as  indecent  as  gossip  on  the  way  to  an 
execution.  But  your  German  travels  among  the 
gaieties  of  life ;  it  is  a  pleasant  episode  :  it  is  like 


SPITTLEB  AND  HIS   WORK.  65 

seeing  company,  a  sort  of  open  club  where  every- 
thing is  discussed  and  everybody  welcome  ;  a  place 
for  little  courtesies  and  self- forge tfulness ;  and  his 
frank  smile  is  like  a  shake-hands  all  round. 

The  Black  Forest  was  on  one  side,  the  Rhine 
upon  the  other.  Geographically  that  was  our  posi- 
tion ;  actually  it  was  in  a  drizzling  mist  of  rain  ;  by 
careful  rubbing  of  one  glass  a  ditch  was  occasionally 
visible ;  by  occasional  opening  of  the  other,  there 
was  evidently  a  dull  mass  of  trees  piled  up  over  the 
slopes  of  long  hills,  and  with  as  much  actual  form  as 
the  shading  round  a  sepia  sketch.  Some  darker 
shadow  would  sometimes  fly  across  our  road,  and 
some  hand  would  point  vaguely  out  to  castle  this  or 
that,  spectral  ruins  over  which  the  rain  and  mist 
had  flung  themselves  for  centuries,  out  of  which  the 
legends  of  the  past  stalked  harmlessly  into  the  busy 
sceptical  present ;  knights  in  armour,  princesses  in 
misfortune,  robber  captains,  emperors'  daughters 
that  were  always  in  love  with  the  wrong  person, 
emperors'  sons  that  were  always  in  disguise,  the 
lady's  foot -page  and  the  rubicund  friar,  gay  caval- 
cades to  gayer  tournaments,  treasons  and  stratagems, 
and  hfe  and  death,  as  they  were  wrought  out  before 
printing  and  gunpowder  and  autumn  tourists. 


66  SPITTLEB  AND  HIS  WORK. 

At  Freiburg  we  stopped,  and  those  who  care  to 
explore  the  Forest  will  do  the  same.  Like  Heidel- 
berg, it  stands  at  the  entrance  of  a  valley,  and  for 
reasons  of  their  own,  the  clouds  make  such  places 
their  special  fortresses ;  pile  themselves  up  in  high 
blockade  against  the  outer  world  ;  sink  deeper  and 
look  denser  than  elsewhere ;  almost  dip  into  the 
streets,  and  sweep  the  people  off  to  cloudland.  And 
so  as  we  went  round  by  dripping  vineyards,  and  streets 
that  murmured  like  water-courses,  round  by  narrow 
lanes,  and  under  spoutless  eaves,  crossing  the  gutters 
by  plank  bridges,  and  stumbling  over  children — 
young  Bacchanals  that  must  needs  launch  ships  of 
vine-leaves,  and  as  we  came  into  the  cathedral 
square,  the  light  fretted  spire  not  only  touched  the 
sky,  but  pierced  it  and  shot  up  into  it,  till  spire  and 
clouds  were  mingled  together.  The  rain  had  driven 
the  apple-women  into  the  shelter  of  the  great 
portal,  where,  as  heedless  of  proprieties  as  the 
carved  virgins  above  them,  they  drove  a  lively  trade 
and  livelier  gossip, — gossip  that  some  untoAvard  puff 
of  wet  did  not  help  to  bring  into  harmony  with  the 
situation.  Incongruity  seems  to  have  fixed  itself 
in  this  Romish  worship  :  buildings  of  exquisite  and 
solemn  beauty  piled  over  the  ugliest  and  tawdriest 


SPITTLEE  AND  HIS   WORK,  67 

of  wax-dolls ;  an-angements  of  painted  light,  and 
aisles  of  pillars,  and  dim  vaulted  roofs,  lofty  heights, 
and  shades  of  rich  gloom,  that  call  up  a  natural  awe 
and  reverence,  but  that  are  used  for  other  arrange- 
ments of  service  that  call  up  disgust ;  reverence  and 
irreverence  divided  by  a  curtain  at  the  door  !  There 
is  no  spiritual  sense,  no  fitness,  no  impression  of  an 
inner  life.  Keligion  has  exhausted  itself  in  a  beauti- 
ful form,  and  cannot  fill  it  with  the  spirit,  but  shows 
off  puppets  of  its  own  in  the  empty  space,  and 
strangers  may  be  excused  if  they  remember  a 
cathedral  only  by  its  Holbein,  or  Raphael,  or  Rubens, 
its  glass  or  its  wood-carving.  Yet  Alban  Stoltz  lay 
on  every  bookstall,  well-thumbed  editions  that  had 
passed  through  the  hands  of  many  readers;  and 
when  Alban  Stoltz  preaches,  there  are  "words  of 
life  from  a  Roman  Catholic  pulpit."  Such  men  are 
themselves  an  incongruity,  ethically  as  painful  and 
far  more  puzzling  than  any  other ;  speaking  truth 
and  content  to  be  wrapped  in  the  folds  of  error.  But 
we  may  judge  them  too  hardly,  forgetting  the  second 
nature  of  old  habit ;  and  Stoltz,  at  least,  does  preach 
Christ  in  a  most  striking  and  genuine  way,  and  his 
writings  are  popular  in  Freiburg  as  elsewhere. 

The  inn  window  looked  out  upon  the  cathedral, 

F  2 


cl-t^^ 


68  SPITTLER  AND  HIS   WOBK. 

and  the  cathedral  filled  up  all  the  space  with  its 
noble  lines  marked  out  against  the  sky,  and  glowing 
through  the  sombre  air  by  the  ruddy  colour  of  its 
red  sandstone,  and  across  it,  and  away  to  the  left 
across  the  vision  of  vineyards,  hung  the  rain-pall. 
Wet  feet  occasionally  plashed  over  the  pools  outside  ; 
wet  travellers  came  in,  till  the  room  was  sprinkled 
with  a  wet  company;  a  wet  dog  of  enormous  pro- 
portions went  sniffing  round  their  pockets,  and 
thrusting  his  terrible  nose  under  their  hands.  Mid- 
day it  rained,  and  long  after  mid-day,  and  it  was 
raining  still,  when  we  took  our  seats  with  a  desperate 
alacrity  in  the  omnibus  for  Todtnau.  Steaming 
horses,  a  mist  of  wet  over  the  windows,  a  straight 
watery  road,  and  off  to  the  right  and  left,  fat,  steam- 
ing meadow-land,  backed  by  vast  shadows  that  might 
be  either  hill  or  cloud.  But  in  an  hour  it  changed. 
The  road  wound  up  in  long  curves;  the  hill-sides 
naiTowed  in  ;  the  pine-woods  grew  into  distinctness  ; 
the  mad  brook  foamed  among  huge  boulders  close 
by  the  horses'  hoofs;  the  ragged  mist  rose  up  a 
hundred  feet ;  there  was  a  long  stretch  of  soft  valley 
behind;  gigantic  masses  of  shadow  darkened  the 
view  before ;  wild,  picturesque  saw-mills  perched 
upon  the  stream;  the  six  horses  could  only  walk. 


SPITTLEB  AND  HIS   WORK.  69 

We  were  fairly  into  the  depths  of  the  Forest.  The 
brook  sunk  into  a  lonely  glen,  and  sent  back  its 
hoarse  murmur  of  companionship;  the  road  went 
right  up  above  our  heads  by  a  series  of  sharp  zigzags, 
and  the  higher  it  rose  the  higher  and  darker  rose 
the  woody  peaks  above  it,  while  the  light  wind 
moved  among  the  low  clouds,  and  showed  great 
mountain  shoulders  with  their  shining  cliffs  and 
water-gullies  and  matted  brushwood  clinging  to  the 
rock  and  sombre  rows  of  firs,  rank  above  rank,  or  it 
opened  chasms  in  the  mist,  through  which  the  woods 
rolled  back  in  interminable  folds,  or  some  green 
meadow  flashed  through  the  rain.  Wooden  cru- 
cifixes had  dotted  the  way,  beside  an  orchard,  or 
leaning  over  a  mill,  against  some  quaint  brown  gable 
at  the  road  end  of  a  straggling  hamlet,  or  under  the 
shelter  of  a  lonely  rock,  of  the  homeliest  and  ugliest 
manufacture,  repulsive,  rotting  away  by  sheer  care- 
lessness. But  the  last  was  left  far  behind,  and  the 
next  was  on  the  level  crown  of  the  hill,  where  the 
charcoal-burners  moved  about  their  fires  like  spectres 
in  the  darkening  twilight.  Then  a  quick  canter 
down  by  bare  fields ;  lights,  wide  apart,  that  leaped 
out  of  the  darkness,  then  an  irregular  cluster,  the 
clatter  of  hoofs  through    a  village  street,  and   the 


70  8PITTLER  AND  HIS   WORK, 

pleasant  parlour  of  tlie  John  Bull.  And  still  it 
rained. 

Yet  they  reveal  a  certain  true  power.  They  asso- 
ciate religion  with  common  life.  It  is  a  dedication 
of  it  to  God  in  a  clumsy,  superstitious,  perhaps  to 
many,  repulsive  way ;  an  effort  to  realise  what  most 
men  forget.  That  very  iiTeverence  of  the  Romish 
worship  may  have  its  better  side.  It  is  a  worship 
that  endeavours  to  make  God  near,  to  realise  him 
under  visible  forms  and  a  real  presence.  But  he  is 
made  near,  treated  as  an  idol,  not  realised  as  a  per- 
sonal being,  already  near,  sharing  the  life,  dwelling 
in  the  heart. 

But  in  that  cheery  parlour  there  was  little  heed  of 
weather.  A  clock  hung  against  the  wall ;  no  vulgar, 
loud-ticking,  showy  time-server,  but  a  very  library 
clock,  that  paced  the  hours  with  noiseless  step,  and 
would  have  been  the  pride  of  a  city  watchmaker ; 
and  near  it  stood  a  piano,  excellently  wrought,  and 
that  for  tone  might  have  held  its  own  with  a  CoUard 
— uncommon  luxuries  for  a  country  inn,  and  in  the 
Black  Forest.  But  they  were  Forest  made ;  for  in 
watches  and  clocks,  and  intelligent  craft  of  that  sort, 
these  foresters  are  eminent,  and  even  great  traders, 
and  hide,  in  the  depths  of  their  brown  woods,  the 


SPITTLEB  AND  HIS   WORK.  71 

very  spirit,  and  enterprise,  and  shrewdness,  and  skill 
of  our  English  manufacturers.  For  the  rest,  the 
room  was  as  unpretending  as  could  be.  At  one  of 
the  long  tables  sat  some  twenty  villagers,  under  pre- 
sidency of  the  host — a  sort  of  choral  union  by  which 
they  pass  the  time  in  long  evenings  —  for  their 
spring,  and  summer,  and  autumn,  are  thrust  into 
less  than  four  months,  and  winter  breaks  off  their 
communications  with  the  world,  —  and  they  sung 
part  songs  and  Suabian  ballads  with  most  excellent 
harmony,  and  played  snatches  of  wild  mountain 
music,  and  quietly  went  their  ways  at  evening 
chimes — courteous,  frank,  and  simple  people,  and 
left  us  to  forget  the  dripping  and  gurgling  of  the 
rain  in  the  absurd  discomfort  of  a  German  bed. 
These  Forest  hamlets  are  marvellously  picturesque, 
with  their  scattered  groups  of  houses,  and  deep  pro- 
jecting roofs  and  wooden  galleries,  and  brown,  old- 
world,  comfortable  look,  and  primitive  ways.  There 
is  no  poverty  among  them,  no  beggar-nuisance  as  in 
other  places,  and  at  Todtnau  everybody  seemed  to 
own  cattle ;  for  in  the  morning  the  rustic  square  was 
filled  with  kids  and  goats  at  the  blast  of  a  horn,  that 
brought  them  out  with  the  suddenness  of  Roderick 
Dhu's  men    and  they  had  no  sooner  been  despatched 


72  SPITTLEB  AND  HIS  WORK. 

up  the  hills,  in  charge  of  two  or  three  young  herds, 
than  the  cows  came  trooping  out  of  house  doors, 
and  stumping  down  wooden  steps,  and  round  from 
by-lanes,  till  the  square  was  as  full  of  them,  and 
they  were  packed  off  under  similar  charge  to  the 
meadows  below — a  marshalling  of  the  resources  of 
the  village  that  had  a  singular  effect,  and  a  system 
that  could  only  be  maintained  by  an  honesty  of  man 
and  intelligence  of  beast  that  are  rare. 

Down  the  winding  road  to  Mambach  is  as  pleasant 
a  walk  as  can  fill  up  an  autumn  morning ;  up  the 
Mambach  slopes  and  over  the  long  crest  of  the  great 
Todtmoos  mountain,  is,  no  doubt,  even  better.  But 
while  we  could  still  hear  the  children's  voices  as 
they  played  round  the  Mambach  doors,  the  invete- 
rate mist  rolled  heavily  down,  and  the  rain  began  to 
soak  through  the  trees ;  and  out  on  the  open  moor, 
and  through  the  long  grass,  and  over  the  heavy  clay 
roads,  up  the  hill  and  down  the  hill,  and  into  the 
valley  of  the  Wehr,  it  rained  with  a  pitiless  patience. 
We  remonstrated.  It  was  not  what  we  had  come 
for.  Rain  could  be  had  anyivhere,  and  to  quite  the 
same  extent,  and  there  was  nothing  peculiar  or  ex- 
hilarating about  it.  It  was  rather  in  the  way;  we 
could  not  see  the  next  field ;  the  large  drops  some- 


SPITTLER  AND  HIS    WORK.  73 

times  missed  the  ground  and  stumbled  against  the 
face  ;  there  was  an  unpleasant  wetness  about  every- 
thing. But  remonstrance  v/as  useless  ;  it  had  made 
up  its  mind  to  it,  and  at  least  a  walk  by  the  Wehr 
on  a  rainy  day  was  a  novelty.  There  were  precipi- 
tous cliffs,  with  fringes  of  trees  about  the  top  and 
bottom,  gigantic  rocks  that  jutted  out  across  the 
path,  and  assumed  the  most  fantastic  shapes,  a  tor- 
rent that  brawled  its  very  loudest,  dense  woods  dyed 
with  all  the  colours  of  autumn,  and  over  all  a  dense 
misty  shroud;  and  we  were  down  in  the  hollow, 
where  there  was  scarce  room  for  the  road  and  the 
river,  and  from  which  the  sides  rose  up  like  walls 
into  invisible  heights.  There  may  be  more.  I 
would  not  do  it  an  injustice,  nor  answer  for  what  is 
visible  in  dry  weather.  But  that  is  what  we  saw : 
miles  of  that.  And  it  rained  all  the  time,  and  all 
that  evening,  in  the  railway  carriage  and  across  the 
bridge  at  Basel,  and  it  was  raining  when  we  went 
to  sleep  in  the  Three  Kings,  above  the  soft  swift 
purling  of  the  Rhine.  Rolling  hills  and  deep  valleys 
and  the  wood  that  has  crept  over  and  round  them 
all ;  rivers  between  narrow  strips  of  fresh  pasture- 
land  ;  villages  that  nestle  in  among  the  lonely  hills, 
and  busy  towns,  where  the  din  of  the  workshop  con- 


74  SPITTLEB  AND  HIS   WORK. 

trasts  strangely  with  the  cincture  of  endless  trees 
and  the  silence  of  the  forest  paths ;  the  brightest  of 
green  fields,  sparkling  like  jewels,  and  hemmed  in 
by  great  belts  of  pine  and  fir ;  gorges  where  the  sun 
scarcely  shines,  and  pleasant  dales  that  the  sun 
seems  never  to  have  left ;  charcoal-burners  and  way- 
farers ;  watchmakers  and  toymakers  ;  honest  peasant 
men  and  women ;  the  quaintest  of  costumes ;  these 
repeated  over  and  again  within  every  few  miles ; 
these,  and  a  universal  brooding  quiet ; — that  is  the 
impression  of  the  Black  Forest ;  and  a  pleasanter 
place  for  a  thorough  bracing  repose  it  is  not  easy  to 
find.  But  of  all  this,  and  how  it  was  seen  under 
rainless  skies,  it  would  be  almost  impertinent  to 
write,  since  Auerbach's  charming  Forest  stories  are 
in  everybody's  hands  ;  and  no  one  can  introduce  us 
to  such  living  Forest  people,  or  show  such  exquisite 
Forest  pictures,  or  bring  its  old  legendary  past  into 
such  happy  contact  with  the  present.  There  is  a 
deeper  interest,  and  less  known,  missed  by  most 
tourists,  and  yet  worth  walking  after  through  a 
whole  wxek  of  rain  ;  and  if  any  reader  has  been 
drawn  away  from  his  easy  chair  into  the  mists  and 
misfortunes  of  wobegone  pedestrians,  it  has  been  with 
good  intention  at  the  bottom. 


SPITTLER  AND  HIS   WORK,  75 

As  the  Rhine  flows  towards  Basel,  and  before  it 
turns  its  back  upon  France,  the  Black  Forest  on  the 
one  side,  and  the  Jura  on  the  other,  send  out  long 
spurs,  and  they  leave  just  space  enough  for  the 
haughty  river,  some  level  fields  of  beans,  vineyards, 
and  here  and  there  an  ancient  town.  On  one  of 
those  northern  spurs,  and  overlooking  Basel,  a 
chapel  was  built  hundreds  of  years  ago — how  many 
hundreds  is  not  positive,  but  there  is  a  legend,  that 
when  the  lady  Ursula  was  returning  from  Rome, 
three  of  the  eleven  thousand  virgins  in  her  train 
lingered  at  Basel,  and  one,  by  name  Crischona,  lived 
upon  the  hill,  and  founded  a  church  ;  and  of  that 
legend  any  one  may  believe  as  much  as  is  convenient, 
and  as  the  sacristan  of  St.  Ursula,  at  Cologne,  can 
tell  him  without  laughing.  But  this  is  certain,  that 
the  hill  is  called  St,  Crischona,  and  that  there  is  a 
chapel  upon  it,  which  twenty  years  ago  was  in  ruins, 
and  had  fallen  so  low,  that  a  neighbouring  farmer 
made  it  a  sty  for  his  hogs.  Here,  in  the  year  1840, 
two  men  knelt  in  prayer;  and  the  chapel  rose  up 
out  of  the  ruins ;  the  nettles  and  rank  grass  became 
a  flower  garden ;  and  the  hogs  were  changed  into 
fat  cattle.  It  was  no  miracle,  but  a  very  simple 
matter.     Mr.  Spittler  had  a  cherished  purpose  in  his- 


76  SPITTLEB  AND  EIS   WORK. 

heart  of  training  young  men  of  the  country-side  for 
missionaries ;  they  would  be  pilgrim  missionaries, 
wandering  up  and  down  among  the  heathen;  not 
resting,  but  in  motion.  They  should  not  linger  by 
any  sweet  spot  of  life,  but  journey  onward,  staff  in 
hand,  preaching  Christ  as  they  went.  They  should 
be  found  in  every  hving  throng,  passing  through  it, 
and  scattering  glad  news  on  every  side ;  in  the 
crowds  at  a  Hindoo  sacrifice,  through  the  ranks  of 
the  fire-worshippers,  at  the  feast  of  the  Ramadan,  in 
the  streets  of  Canton,  on  the  prairie  of  the  Red 
Indian,  by  the  kraal  of  the  Kaffirs, — solemn- voiced 
messengers  of  God,  speeding  over  the  earth,  and 
crying,  Mepent,  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at 
hand.  He  begged  for  the  ruins  of  St.  Crischona, 
and  having  freely  got  them,  he  went  np  with  his 
architect,  and  prayed  that  God  would  guide  him  in 
his  work.  Part  of  the  chapel  was  restored  suffi- 
ciently to  live  in,  and  here  he  lived  for  some  time 
alone.  Basel  is  wealthy  and  generous,  but  it  did  not 
sympathise  with  him  :  men  did  not  come  in ;  and 
still  he  waited.  Then  one  joined  him  ;  then  three ; 
and  soon  they  were  six.  The  chapel  was  ceiled,  and 
dormitories  made  of  the  upper  story.  The  dormi- 
tories were   crowded ;   a  fresh   building  had  to  be 


8PITTLEB  AND  HIS   WORK.  77 

undertaken,  and  the  hill  is  now  held  by  this  Chris- 
tian colony.  A  hundred  and  fifty  have  gone  out 
from  it ;  and  there  are  fifty  there  at  present.  They 
are  young  men,  mostly  peasants,  and  while  they 
study  they  are  not  above  peasant's  work.  There  is  a 
farm,  that  serves  both  for  their  support  and  training ; 
they  manage  all  their  household  economy ;  the  last 
glimpse  we  had  of  them  was  singing — and  their 
singing  is  worth  hearing — over  their  washing-tubs. 
Their  teachers  live  with  them,  men  of  ability  and 
Christian  worth ;  their  education  is  not  sacrificed  to 
their  work,  but  is  thorough,  and  well  adapted  to 
their  calling ;  the  tone  of  the  place  is  manly,  healthy, 
and  earnest ;  and  the  basis  of  their  training,  and  the 
very  formation  of  their  house,  is  faith  in  the  living 
God.  The  aim  of  the  institution  has  scarcely  yet 
been  reached,  but  one  branch  of  it  realises  the 
character  of  the  whole.  It  is  proposed  to  establish 
such  a  chain  of  mission  posts  as  will  connect 
Jerusalem  with  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope.  Missions 
already  reach  up  as  far  as  the  Zambezi ;  the  mission 
at  Rabba  Mopia  will  form  a  link  between  the  Kaffir 
stations  and  Abyssinia ;  and  from  Jerusalem  to 
Abyssinia  Mr.  Spittler  proposes  establishing  twelve 
stations,  each  sufficiently  strong   to  command   the 


78  SPITTLER  AND  HIS  WORK. 

surrounding  district,  and  sufficiently  near  the  next 
to  maintain  easy  communication,  and  these  he  calls 
the  Apostolic  Way.  As  means  are  provided,  the 
stations  are  established,  and  already  there  are  two, 
and  prospect  of  a  third.  While  it  may  be  thought 
that  there  is  something  sentimental  in  this  project, 
it  is  plain  that  missionary  centres  of  this  sort,  each 
a  link  in  a  long  chain,  are  the  most  effective  of  all ; 
that  the  isolation  of  a  station  is  a  source  of  weak- 
ness, and,  perhaps,  of  ruin  ;  that,  on  the  other  hand, 
a  station  must  be  effective  enough  to  bear  being 
isolated  at  any  juncture.  There  is  need  also  for  a 
comprehensive  mission  scheme,  for  developing  mis- 
sion effort  with  more  system,  and  on  a  larger  scale  ; 
distributing  the  forces  of  our  Christian  soldiers 
through  new  provinces,  placing  them  in  the  most 
effective  positions,  not  only  for  single  but  united 
work,  and  waging  the  war  on  a  scale  commensurate 
with  the  object.  Now  that  missions  are  no  longer 
the  experiments  they  were  at  the  commencement  of 
this  century,  unfamiliar  and  unsupported,  it  might 
be  worth  while  and  practicable  not  only  to  plant 
fresh  stations,  but  to  plant  them  in  such  a  way  that 
they  shall  be  part  of  the  mission  system  of  a  coun- 
try  or   an   entire   continent.      India   might   be   so 


SPITTLER  AND  HIS   WORK.  79 

mapped  out,  that  as  each  post  was  occupied,  it  would 
be  a  step  towards  completing  the  general  India 
mission  system  ;  and  as  towns  outside  of  India  were 
occupied,  it  might  be  in  subjection  to  the  wider 
system  for  Asia ;  and  each  society  might  assume  the 
vacant  places  as  it  was  able.  A  chain  of  missions 
through  the  dry  heart  of  Africa  is  a  venturous 
thought,  fit  to  be  conceived  in  a  venturous  age  like 
ours,  and  Christians  will  watch  its  progress  with 
much  eagerness  and  sjrmpathy. 

If  climate  and  situation  have  any  effect  upon  the 
mind,  it  might  be  supposed  that  St.  Crischona,  with 
its  width  of  prospect,  had  some  influence  in  giving 
Mr.  Spittler  his  larger  views  of  missions,  for  the 
country  lies  under  the  eye,  from  the  glittering  peaks 
of  the  Bernese  Alps,  and  almost  a  hundred  miles  of 
the  valley  of  the  Rhine,  to  Freiburg — as  lovely  and 
varied  a  view  as  one  could  have  on  a  summer's  day. 
Leaving  this  elevation,  however,  and  descending  to 
the  village  of  Riehen  below,  we  meet  Mr.  Spittler 
again.  Indeed,  it  would  not  be  easy  to  avoid 
meeting  him  anywhere  round  Basel.  There,  oppo- 
site us,  lies  his  Reformatory,  deep  among  its  vines. 
He  intended  it  for  wild  lads  who  might  have  run  off 
from  home,  gone  to  sea  perhaps,  or  in  some  way  cast 


So  SPITTLEB  AND  HIS   WORK. 

off  all  parental  restraint.  He  thouglit  there  might 
come  a  time  when  they  would  be  softened,  and 
anxious  to  return,  when  a  kind  word  might  break 
down  their  pride,  and  they  would  accept  a  refuge 
from  the  wild  life  that  had  deceived  and  wearied 
them.  The  first  lad  who  came  had  been  a  sailor  ; 
he  proved  diligent  and  serious ;  the  change  in  him 
was  so  marked  that  he  was  soon  transferred  to  the 
Mission  House,  and  from  there  he  has  gone  out  to 
a  new  station  on  the  Apostolic  Way.  And  though 
there  has  been  no  other  story  to  match  this,  the 
Reformatory  has  succeeded,  and  its  rooms  are  filled. 
Down  below  us  also  there  is  a  large  and  picturesque 
building,  one  of  the  best  institutions  for  the  deaf 
and  dumb  in  Germany ;  and  if  you  ask  about  it,  you 
are  informed  it  was  raised  by  Mr.  Spittler.  Go  to 
the  Tract  Society,  and  you  are  still  in  Mr.  Spittler's 
domain.  The  great  mission-house  at  Basel  reckons 
him  chief  among  its  founders ;  it  was  he  almost  as 
much  as  Zeller  that  founded  Beuggen.  For  these 
last  sixty  years  he  has  worked  at  every  Christian 
work  in  Basel.  He  is  one  of  the  few  surviving 
members  of  the  old  Christian  Society,  from  which 
it  may  be  said  the  modem  missions  of  Germany 
have  sprung.     When  Gossner  was  in  early  trouble, 


SPITTLER  AND  HIS   WORK.  8i 

it  was  to  Spittler  that  he  came.  When  Zeller 
was  bent  upon  saving  the  outcast  children,  it 
was  to  Spittler  that  he  confided  his  plans.  And 
now,  in  his  old  age,  he  is  working  still,  and  watching 
the  works  already  begun  as  they  grow  and  strengthen 
under  unseen  hands.  And  for  the  reason  of  that 
success,  and  the  motive  of  that  life,  he  has  no  answer 
but  one,  that  it  is  of  faith  and  prayer. 

This,  however,  has  been  by  way  of  interruption  in 
our  descent  to  Riehen,  and  our  chief  object  there 
was  to  visit  the  Deaconesses,  for  whom  it  may  be 
said,  once  for  all,  Mr.  Spittler  also  is  answerable. 
The  house  lies  in  an  open  garden,  a  quiet,  simple, 
country  house,  with  no  pretensions,  but  perfectly 
neat  and  clean.  Unlike  Kaiserswerth,  it  is  but  a 
single  house,  and  not  the  centre  of  a  busy  Christian 
colony.  Everything  about  it  is  quiet ;  the  view  of 
the  soft  hills  and  woods  up  the  valley  of  the  Wiese ; 
the  meadows  and  still  grave-yard  opposite ;  the 
flowers  before  the  door,  and  what  one  might  call 
the  cheerful  silence  within.  There  are  few  Deacon- 
esses ;  the  hospital  is  on  the  smallest  scale  ;  the 
country  air  breathes  through  the  rooms ;  and  sick- 
nursing  is  all  that  is  attempted.  Nothing  can  be 
simpler,  less  like  an   order,  or   even   organization. 

G 


82  SPITTLEB  AND  HIS   WORK. 

But  Riehen  has  an  importance  that  cannot  be 
gauged  by  size  or  numbers.  It  is  yet  in  its  infancy, 
moreover;  only  ten  5^ears  in  existence,  yet  there 
have  been  from  seventy  to  eighty  deaconesses  con- 
nected with  it ;  and  during  last  year  more  than  200 
patients  passed  through  the  hospital.  The  arrange- 
ments are  almost  identical  with  those  at  Kaisers- 
werth  ;  there  is  the  same  tidiness  in  the  rooms.,  the 
same  attention  to  hght  and  air,  the  same  provision 
for  sick  children,  the  same  regular  medicine-room, 
the  same  love  of  flowers,  the  same  homeliness ;  there 
is  in  the  one  as  much  as  the  other  a  calm  Christian 
atmosphere,  a  careful,  gentle,  genial  nursing.  But 
the  order  is  different.  Riehen  is  under  the  presi- 
dency of  a  lady ;  there  is  no  resident  chaplain ;  no 
fixed  term  of  service ;  there  are  scarcely  any  rules. 
It  is  a  proof  that  the  usefulness  of  the  deaconess  is 
not  confined  to  any  system,  that  the  principle  of 
associating  Christian  women  in  Christian  service  is 
independent  of  any  special  regulations,  that  it  is 
capable  of  being  adapted  to  the  freest  states  of 
society.  Nothing,  indeed,  can  well  be  simpler  than 
the  Riehen  foundation,  and  it  must  be  remembered 
that  this  simplicity  has  been  found  sufficient  to  meet 
very  varied  and  scattered  work.     Some  of  the  dea- 


SPITTLEB  AND  HIS   WORK.  83 

eonesses  are  in  the  hospitals  of  Basel,  others  at 
Zurich  and  Schaffhausen ;  some  are  private  nurses, 
and  some  tend  the  insane.  And  Riehen  is  the 
parent  house,  and  its  rules  must  serve,  not  only  for 
itself,  but  for  its  various  offshoots,  sufficiently  com- 
prehensive and  strict  to  maintain  unity  in  spite  of 
separation  and  difference  of  circumstances.  What 
might  be  defective  in  system,  however,  is  balanced 
by  the  carefulness  of  selection.  Many  of  those  vi^ho 
offer  their  services  are  at  first  rejected.  Of  the  rest, 
some  prove  unsuitable  before  the  time  of  probation 
commences ;  and  the  probation  itself,  which  com- 
monly lasts  a  year,  is  a  time  of  wise  and  loving 
scrutiny.  It  is  felt  to  be  no  ordinary  duty  that  is 
undertaken,  but  one  that  requires  the  highest  de- 
votedness  and  the  power  and  clearness  of  a  simple 
faith.  "Deaconesses  are  servants  of  the  Lord  in 
works  of  merciful  love,  and  the  Deaconess  Institu- 
tion at  Riehen  presents  an  oj^portunity  of  hasten- 
ing to  the  help  of  suffering  humanity,  and  thereby 
furthering  the  kingdom  of  God  on  the  earth  ; "  but 
just  because  it  is  such,  the  intending  deaconess 
"  must  earnestly  examine  herself  before  God." 
"  Natural  kindliness  and  head-Christianity "  are  not 
enough :  there  must  be  "  Christian  knowledge  united 

1         G  2 


84  SPITTLEE  AND  HIS   WOEK. 

with  the  experience  of  a  life  in  God."  Those  who 
pass  this  probation,  and  are  recommended  by  the 
superintendent,  are  set  apart  at  a  solemn  service, 
and  receive  a  solemn  charge. 

The  charge  iterates  with  great  emphasis  the 
leading  principles  of  their  calling,  its  luillingness, 
obedience,  and  fidelity.  "Obedience,"  said  Pastor 
Harter  of  Strasbourg,  at  the  opening,  "is  the 
humility  of  love,  willingness  the  joy  of  love,  fide- 
lity the  steadfastness  of  love.  A  deaconess  without 
humihty  is  impossible, — a  contradiction  in  terms. 
Deaconesses  are  not  only  an  association  but  a  cor- 
poration; a  humble  obedience  holds  it  together. 
As  members  of  the  corporation,  the  sisters  have 
their  higher  and  lower  functions,  yet  so  that  none 
shall  hold  herself  above  another."  It  is  not  the 
obedience  of  a  vow ;  the  blind  submission  to  a  su- 
perior ;  nor  obedience  for  merit's  sake  and  because 
it  is  a  glorious  thing  to  crucify  the  self-will.  It  is 
simply  so  much  intelligent  obedience  as  may  make 
order  and  help  practicable ;  so  much  submission  as 
one  must  render  in  a  corporate  body  for  the  good  of 
the  whole.  Nor  is  the  fidelity  an  inviolable  promise 
for  the  future.  It  is  quite  true  that  the  calling  of  a 
deaconess  is  contemplated  as  permanent ;  that  there 


SPITTLEB  AND  HIS   WORK.  Ss 

is  no  desire  that  it  should  be  lightly  taken  and  as 
lightly  thrown  off — serve  only  to  pass  some  idle  days 
of  life.  It  is  in  this  respect  simply  on  a  level  with 
other  callings.  It  is  understood  that  there  are 
persons  who  may  look  to  it  as  their  life,  deliberately 
prefer  it  to  any  other  life  ;  that  it  puts  within  their 
reach  what  they  needed,  a  calling  by  which  they  can 
humbly  serve  God.  The  deaconess  is  set  apart  on 
the  understanding  that  she  has  deliberately  chosen 
her  diaconate,  that  she  does  not  anticipate  resigning 
it.  But  there  is  no  promise  sought  or  given.  She 
may  withdraw  by  giving  some  months'  notice.  She 
may  marry.  There  is  no  hindrance  to  such  seces- 
sions ;  they  will  always  be  occurring ;  nor  are  they 
without  great  good.  They  spread  the  help  and  skill 
of  the  deaconess  over  a  larger  surface  ;  as  a  Christian 
wife  or  mother  she  may  aid  in  many  ways  waves 
and  mothers  of  her  acquaintance ;  and  the  fact  of 
such  secessions  acts  healthily  back  upon  the  dea- 
coness, and  prevents  her  becoming  touched  with  the 
spirit  of  a  mere  order  ;  prevents  anything  approach- 
ing a  conventual  separation  from  the  world.  But 
the  dedication  is  on  the  principle  that  the  calling  is 
steadfastly  assumed,  and  will  be  steadfastly  pur- 
sued.    A  very  cheerful   calling,  to  judge  from  the 


Z6  SPITTLER  AND  HIS   WORK. 

brightness  and  peaceful  look  of  every  thing,  and 
every  one  at  Riehen.  Among  her  requirements,  a 
deaconess  is  to  be  of  those  whose  "natural  dis- 
position is  lively,  friendly,  affectionate,  and  with- 
out any  tendency  to  gloom  or  excitement."  The 
spirit  of  the  place  is  just  such  as  to  foster  such  a 
temper ;  her  common  work  is  just  such  as  to  require 
it.  A  gloomy  nurse  is  an  aggravation  of  sickness : 
a  perpetual  black  draught.  Yet  how  many  martyrs 
suffer  by  such  a  simple  cause  ;  how  many,  as  soon  as 
they  enter  a  sick-room,  muffle  the  voice  like  a  drum 
for  the  funeral  march,  lengthen  the  face,  and  speak 
gracious  and  friendly  words  with  a  solemnity  that  is 
appalling  !  Christian  truth  is  joyful ,  Christian  life 
is  sunny.  A  Christian  nurse  should  enter  the  room 
like  a  sunbeam,  as  noiseless  and  as  cheerful.  And 
much  like  the  sunbeams  do  those  gentle  Eiehen 
deaconesses  go  about  their  work,  flitting  softly 
through  the  rooms,  and  lighting  up  the  faces  of 
their  patients  as  they  pass ; — true  Christian  women, 
who  live  for  Christ,  and  freely  use  their  privilege  of 
nursing  for  winning  others  to  the  Saviour  and  his 
peace. 

The  last  glimpse  we  had  of  Riehen  was  of  a  sim- 
ple dress  of  black  and  white,  moving  over  the  gar- 


8PITTLEB  AND  HIS   WORK.  87 

den-walk  and  the  simple  house  among  the  flowers. 
Behind  lie  the  dark  shadow  of  the  woods,  and  the 
darker  shadow  of  the  past.  There  are  charities  of 
greater  bulk  and  pretension,  but  there  are  few  as 
interesting  as  those  of  the  Black  Forest ;  the  growth 
of  one  man's  effort,  gifen  indeed  by  God  in  answer 
to  one  man's  prayer.  And  this  spirit  of  prayer,  this 
childlike  dependence  on  God,  and  bold,  hearty  faith, 
characterize  each.  They  are  wisely  and  carefully 
conducted,  so  modestly,  that  few  have  heard  of 
them ;  I  have  only  mentioned  one  or  two  out  of 
many.  Yet  from  that  quiet  retirement  a  living 
power  goes  out  that  is  felt  in  the  backwoods  of  ' 
America,  and  up  the  Nile,  and  away  in  Abyssinia ; 
that  betrays  itself  in  movements  affecting  the  future 
of  the  Church,  that  sus^ofests  the  mosfc  effective 
means  for  large  social  reforms  and  healthy  Christian, 
work ;  and  that  power  is  nothing  else  but  faith  in 
the  living  God. 

We  turned  reluctantly  away  up  the  road  to 
Schandau — we,  that  is,  he  and  I,  for  we  were  two. 
He  was  the  best  of  companions,  the  pleasantest  of 
travellers.  May  no  worse  fate  ever  befall  him  than 
a  wetting  in  the  Black  Forest,  and  a  day  at  St. 
Crischona ! 


CHEISTIAN    GOTTLOB    BAETH. 


|0  more  welcome  utterer  of  good  words  has 
lived  among  men  than  Christian  Barth. 
Before  his  death  he  might  have  pre- 
sented his  guests  with  the  175th  edition  of  his 
first  book  ;  he  might  have  given  them  ample  choice 
of  language,  for  it  was  printed  in  half  the  lan- 
guages of  the  globe  ;  but  for  his  modesty,  he  might 
have  informed  them  that  his  works  circulated 
by  the  million.  Other  statistics  that  reach  us  are 
on  the  same  scale.  His  correspondents  included 
about  a  thousand  missionaries;  he  carried  on  four 
mission-journals  at  the  same  time  ;  he  wrote  the 
most  popular  of  religious  stories  ;  he  worked  out  a 
Society  which  is  to  Germany  what  The  Religious 
Tract   Society   is  to  us.     With  all  this   he   was  a 


CHRISTIAN  GOTTLOB  BARTH,  ,  89 

genuine  man,  sincere,  simple,  unpretending ;  a  man 
who,  for  what  he  did  and  what  he  was,  demands 
some  memorial,  and  the  more,  as  there  was  little 
extraordinary  about  him,  save  his  work,  to  raise  him 
much  above  other  men.  The  biography  of  splendid 
genius  is  often  chilly  and  disheartening;  pleasant 
to  read — impossible,  if  not  unnatural,  to  follow.  It 
is  helpful  to  learn  the  story  of  some  average  man, 
and  how,  by  exercise  of  some  quality  not  beyond 
common  reach,  he  placed  himself  above  the  average ; 
helpful  above  all  when  his  quality  is  rather  Christian 
consecration  and  earnestness,  than  any  one  gift  or 
prominence  of  character. 

Barth  was  born  at  Stuttgart,  in  the  last  year  of 
last  century,  of  humble  but  devout  parents.  His 
father,  a  painter  by  trade,  belonged  to  one  of  those 
small  circles  of  pious  Christian  folk  that  abound  in 
Wurtemburg.  For  Wurtemburg  is  the  religious 
heart  of  South  Germany,  as  the  Wupperthal  is  of 
the  North  ;  and  the  WUrtemburgers  are  marked  by 
a  certain  very  warm  and  impulsive  piety  not  always 
within  the  strictness  or  control  of  the  Church.  For, 
indeed,  it  is  this  warmth  and  force  of  religious  life 
there  which  nourishes,  and  to  some  extent  forms 
the  Church,  and  produces  a  freer  church-life  than 


90  CHRISTIAN  GOTTLOB  BARTR. 

elsewhere ;  a  life  sustained  more  by  the  communion 
of  saints  than  the  orthodoxy  of  creeds  and  ecclesi- 
astical order.  The  people  have  their  own  meetings, 
unite  by  mere  sympathy  of  Christian  brotherhood, 
study  the  Bible  for  themselves ;  and  these  little 
groups  are  thickly  scattered  over  the  country,  and 
are  so  many  sources  of  Christian  influence,  and  a 
pleasant  sign  in  any  Christian  land.  But  not 
without  dangers  and  drawbacks,  and  many  party 
differences  on  minute  points,  and  singular  small 
heresies  and  hobbies,  like  that  of  Mr.  Hoffmann  for 
the  rebuilding  of  Jerusalem ;  just  such  aberrations 
and  divisions  as  are  associated  with  the  history  of 
Pietism,  and  prove  it,  for  all  its  attractiveness,  to 
be  one-sided,  and  to  need  the  definiteness  of  the 
Church. 

To  one  of  these  pious  circles  the  elder  Barth  had 
attached  himself,  and  from  schoolmaster  Gundert 
and  others  his  son  (left  early  fatherless)  heard  an 
excellent  report,  and  grew  up  with  the  dear  memory 
of  a  Christian  father.  His  mother  is  described 
as  a  woman  of  great  force  of  character  and  even 
majesty ;  and  graceful  in  her  true  simplicity ;  a 
woman  of  the  temper  of  good  Monica,  and  of  many 
prayers  and  tears  for  her  children.     Thus,  in  a  pious 


CHBISTIAN  GOTTLOB  EARTH  91 

atmosphere  and  a  happy  home,  young  Earth  grew 
up,  and  even  at  eleven  was  a  lad  of  great  promise. 
In  the  gymnasium  he  was  painter,  musician,  poet ; 
and  wrote  political  ballads  during  the  stirring  close 
of  the  European  war,  but  merely,  it  would  seem,  to 
work  off  some  natural  effervescence,  for  almost  im- 
mediately there  followed  grave  hexameters  on  Jung 
Stilling,  whom  he  had  visited,  and  who  left  on  him, 
as  on  most  earnest  men  of  the  time,  a  profound 
impression.  Till  his  death  it  Avas  his  habit  to  read 
Stilling's  Homelongings  once  a  year.  At  Tubingen 
he  had  the  reputation  of  a  brilliant  student,  of 
humour,  quickness,  and  thorough  earnestness.  He 
joined  a  set  of  afterwards  eminent  men,  almost 
exchisively  Pietists, — Passavant,  Hoffacker,  Roos, 
Burk,  and  others, — to  whom  he  was  a  perpetual 
marvel  and  uneasiness,  as  not  knowing  whither  his 
restlessness  and  genius  might  lead  him.  He  chose 
for  his  motto,  Odi  traiiquillitatem ;  studied  classics 
and  philosophy ;  read  hard  in  the  Talmud  ;  painted 
his  friends ;  taught ;  wrote  pamphlets  ;  preached 
occasionally.  His  pamphlets  were  successful;  people 
flocked  to  hear  his  sermons ;  yet  his  friends  were 
still  uneasy,  his  mother  more  than  all.  He  was 
unsettled,  would  be  a  missionary  at  one  time,  then 


92  CHRISTIAN  GOTTLOB  EARTH. 

a  pastor,  then  a  writer.  She  longed  to  see  him 
enter  with  more  consecration  on  the  duties  of  a 
minister.  She  criticised  his  sermons ;  told  him  it 
was  a  mercy  he  ever  got  through  them.  She  put 
down  his  pamphlets  as  much  as  others  put  them  up  ; 
"  don't  believe  those  who  flatter  you,"  she  would  say, 
"but  kneel  down  and  ask  forgiveness  for  all  your 
sins."  Earth  stoutly  maintained  his  views  even  in 
the  face  of  such  counsel,  and  proved  that  there  was 
less  vanity  than  she  dreaded,  more  truth  than  she 
hoped.  Still  he  found  afterwards  that  there  was 
much  truth  in  hers;  and  faithfully  and  unshrink- 
ingly she  dealt  out  her  counsel,  and  rejoiced  in 
secret  over  any  sign  of  his  spiritual  progress.  He 
left  the  university  with  the  testimony  of  Fallen 
away  into  the  errors  of  mysticis'tn,  and  entered  at 
once  into  close  intercourse  with  Pietists  of  every 
school.  After  two  or  three  curacies,  he  was  ap- 
pointed pastor  of  Mottlingen  in  the  Black  Forest, 
and  commenced  the  work  of  his  life. 

One  leading  thought  of  his  was  the  unity  of 
Christians  ;  a  prevalent  thought  with  the  genuine 
mystic — more  prevalent  in  Earth's  early  days  from 
the  necessity  for  true  Christians  of  every  type 
working  heartily  together.     His  friends  were  chosen 


CHRISTIAN  GOTTLOB  BABTH.  93 

in  no  narrow  circle.  Their  aspirations,  the  aspira- 
tions of  most  pious  men  then,  were  the  same ; 
strong  sectional  barriers  in  the  Church  were  ignored, 
Christ  only  was  sought.  Even  Roman  Catholics 
dropped  their  exclusiveness  for  the  sake  of  Christian 
union.  In  the  north,  Protestants  and  Romanists  met 
at  the  table  of  Princess  Galitzin  ;  in  the  south, 
Gossner  and  Bois  were  welcome  guests  in  Christian 
circles  ;  the  Romanist  Van  Ess  took  Earth's  place  at 
a  missionary  society.  For  the  mission  in  Germany 
sank  its  confessional  element  in  its  origin  ;  it  rose 
out  of  the  free  intercourse  and  zeal  of  private 
Christians  :  it  offered  a  meeting  point  and  common 
sphere  of  work  for  those  who  lamented  the  careless- 
ness of  the  churches  as  well  as  for  those  who  longed 
to  forget  church  differences  in  the  love  of  God.  It 
was  natural  that  the  mission  should  take  its 
strongest  hold  upon  Barth  ;  that  his  sermons  should 
be  touched  with  it ;  that  he  should  seek  content 
with  missionary  workers.  Its  breadth,  and  union, 
and  downright  earnestness  were  irresistibly  attrac- 
tive. Wherever  he  was  he  founded  some  missionary 
society;  and  at  last  altogether  withdrew  from  the 
pastorate  to  work  out  the  cause  of  missions  at 
Calw.     His   pastorate  was  faithful,  and  a  blessing 


94  CHRISTIAN'  GOTTLOB  EARTH. 

that  was  long  thankfully  remembered  in  the  parish. 
But  it  was  not  as  pastor  God  had  chosen  him.  To 
increase  the  interest  in  missions  he  proposed  adding 
a  new  periodical  to  the  only  one  then  existing.  The 
friends  at  Basel  laughed  at  the  notion.  He  matured 
it,  and  in  January,  1828,  there  appeared  the  first 
number  of  the  Calwer  Missionary  Journal,  a  paper 
which  sj^eedily  rose  to  a  large  circulation.  Three 
other  mission  periodicals  were  added  by  him  and 
carried  on  simultaneously,  each  addressing  itself  to 
a  special  class  of  readers.  The  income,  which  grew 
to  be  considerable,  was  his  donation  to  the  Basel 
Society.  By  the  interest  of  his  papers  he  mainly 
fought  the  battle  of  missions.  From  being  scorned 
and  few,  he  lived  to  see  them  honoured  and  wide- 
spread. And  Gossner's  name  was  not  oftener  nor 
kindlier  spoken  than  Christian  Barth's.  What  the 
man  himself  was  like  at  this  time  and  afterwards, 
what  impression  he  made,  cannot  be  better  told 
than  in  a  letter  which  I  have  received  from  a  friend 
who  was  also  his  friend : — 

"I  visited  Dr.  Barth  in  the  winter  of  1851. 
Having  reached  his  door  by  an  eilwagen  long  after 
sunset,  and  left  it  next  morning  before  dawn,  I  have 


'  CHRISTIAN  GOTTLOB  BARTH.  95 

no  knowledge  of  the  town  of  Calw  or  its  neighbour- 
hood. Amidst  the  darkness  which  in  memory  broods 
over  that  district  of  the  Black  Forest,  the  only 
luminous  spot  is  Dr.  Earth's  room,  with  his  own 
glowing  countenance  as  its  sun,  radiating  '  godliness, 
brotherly  kindness,  and  charity.' 

"The  feature  of  that  house  of  his  which  survives 
every  other  minor  impression  made  by  it,  was  its 
singular  missionary  character.  One  felt  as  if  in 
some  centre  of  telegraphic  communication  with  all 
the  missions  of  the  world,  and  that  the  Doctor  had 
only  to  touch  some  mysterious  wire  and  ascertain 
what  was  doing  in  Otaheite  or  Sumatra,  Greenland 
or  New  Zealand.  When  I  entered  his  study,  I 
found  a  comfortable  table  spread  for  me,  but  it  was 
all  redolent  of  missions.  I  was  welcomed  with  a 
glass  of  wine  sent  by  missionaries  from  Lebanon ; 
helped  to  reindeer  tongue  sent  by  missionaries  from 
Greenland ;  and  to  honey  gathei-ed  by  the  bees  of 
Bethlehem.  My  footstool  was  a  stuffed  panther,  the 
original  stuffing  having  been  made  by  Gobat  in 
Abyssinia.  The  room  in  which  we  sat  was  hung 
with  large  mission  maps.  Primitive  working  clocks 
were  ticking  from  its  walls,  which  had  been  made 
and  presented  to  him  by  Moravians,  and  they  were 


96  CHRISTIAN  GOTTLOB  BAETH, 

set  so  as  to  tell  the  time  at  Jerusalem,  New  York, 
Otaheite,  and  Pekin.  'All  !  see  now,'  Earth  would 
say,  pointmg  to  one  of  them  somewhere  or  other 
during  the  night,  'the  sun  is  setting  just  now  to  the 
missionaries  in  Jerusalem ;'  or,  '  It  is  wakening 
them  up  in  Sumatra.'  On  his  desk  were  mementos 
of  names  '  familiar  as  household  words '  in  the 
Church,  such  as  Oberlin,  Neff,  &c.  In  another  room 
he  had  an  interesting  missionary  museum,  full  of 
minerals,  coins,  dresses,  arms,  models  of  houses,  ever 
illustrative  of  the  natural  history,  manners,  and 
customs  of  the  inhabitants  of  those  lands  in  which 
missionaries  laboured.  Letters  had  come  in  that 
evening,  as  I  presume  they  had  come  in  every  even- 
ing for  years,  from  different  missionaries,  telling  him, 
as  if  to  a  Pope  or  General  of  an  '  Order,'  all  they 
w^ere  doing,  and  asking  his  counsel.  We  sat  up 
until  it  struck  three  in  the  morning,  and  never  did 
I  spend  a  more  delightful  night.  He  was  so  full 
of  information,  so  genial  and  frank,  with  so  much 
freshness  and  humour,  and  so  thoroughly  sincere, 
truthful,  and  godly,  that  it  did  good  to  heart  and 
head  to  gaze  on  those  full  hazel  eyes,  twinkling 
through  the  large  spectacles,  with  the  broad  forehead 
above,  and  the  brown  hair  which  strewed  down  on 


CHRISTIAN  QOTTLOB  EARTH.  97 

each  side  of  the  full  cheeks,  with  the  large  knotted 
white  neckcloth  that  supported  the  broad  chin.  I 
felt  as  if  talking  to  some  mediaeval  portrait  that 
had  walked  out  of  a  picture  frame.  The  only  thing 
one  saw  in  the  living  man,  which  has  never,  as  far 
as  I  know,  been  pictured  in  the  portrait  of  a  clergy- 
man, was  a  cigar,  which  either  lasted  for  hours, 
or  was  a  successor  or  predecessor  of  similar  lumi- 
naries. 

"  When  at  length  I  retired  to  my  room,  to  snatch 
a  little  rest  ere  resuming  my  winter  journey,  I  found 
every  inch  of  its  walls  covered  with  engravings  of 
the  clergy  of  all  lands — a  large,  interesting,  and 
most  powerful  Evangelical  Alliance.  The  likenesses 
seemed  taken  from  every  available  quarter,  books 
having  evidently  afforded  a  considerable  number 
of  them.  The  Doctor  called  them  his  '  cloud  of 
witnesses.' 

''I  need  not  trouble  you  with  any  part  of  our 
conversation  that  night,  which  was  wholly  on  the 
work  of  the  Christian  Church I  shall  ever  re- 
tain a  most  affectionate  remembrance  of  him,  as  one 
of  the  simplest,  purest,  best,  and  most  interesting 
men  whom  I  have  ever  had  the  happiness  of  meet- 
ing or  the  high  privilege  of  knowing." 

H 


98  CHRISTIAN  GOTTLOB  BARTH. 

How  in  this  quiet  forest  village  lie  grew  to  be  a 
man  of  fame  in  the  broad  world  ;  how  visitors  came 
to  him  from  every  part  of  Europe,  missionaries  from 
every  corner  of  heathenism,  a  Russian  princess  one 
day,  a  native  preacher  from  India  the  next;  how 
he  wrote  wonderful  tales  for  children,  and  Bible 
stories  that  have  been  translated  into  fifty  languages, 
and  all  manner  of  histories,  and  even  an  edition  of 
the  Bible  of  no  little  notoriety ;  how  his  publishing 
office  at  Calw  grew  into  importance,  and  furnished 
half  the  juvenile  Christian  books  of  Germany ;  how 
he  received  crosses  and  ribbons  from  almost  every 
sovereign  of  Europe,  and  quietly  put  them  away  in 
his  drawer ;  how  he  did  the  same  by  university 
honours,  and  the  like,  that  crowded  on  him :  this 
and  the  rest  will  no  doubt  be  one  day  related. 
Through  all,  his  character  remained  unchanged — 
his  freshness,  naivete,  homeliness,  and  strong  indi- 
viduality. To  the  last  he  held  a  free  position  in  the 
Church,  and  sought  his  early  ideal  of  union.  To  the 
last,  he  was  singular  in  some  of  his  views,  entertain- 
ing some  theological  speculations  with  which  the 
Church  has  little  sympathy.  But  to  the  last,  also, 
the  love  of  Christ  sustained  him,  filled  his  heart 
with  life,  and  peace,  and  brotherly  love;  and  none 


CHRISTIAN  GOTTLOB  BARTR.  99 

that  loved  Christ  could  resist  the  infection  of  his 
sympathy.  On  a  November  day  of  last  year,  a 
modest  funeral  wound  up  from  the  picturesque 
Calw, — up,  and  over  the  rough  forest-paths,  over  the 
dead  red  leaves,  and  under  the  silent  pines;  and 
through  every  hamlet  that  they  passed  the  mourners 
chanted  funeral  psalms,  and  the  villagers  came  out 
to  meet  them,  and  stood  with  bared  head  bent  in 
prayer  as  the  train  passed  by,  until  at  last  they 
came  to  Mottlingen.  And  there,  in  his  old  cure, 
beside  his  faithful  mother,  they  laid  the  good  man 
to  his  rest.  Other  men  will  fill  a  larger  space  in 
the  eye  of  the  world,  but  Christian  Gottlob  Barth 
will  always  have  a  large  place  in  the  story  of  God's 
kingdom. 


H  2 


BATSCH    AND    HIS    CO-WOEKERS. 


ELIEYE,  hope,  love,  pray,  burn,  waken 
the  dead !  Hold  fast  by  prayer ; 
wrestle  like  Jacob !  IJp,  up,  my 
brethren !  the  Lord  is  coming,  and  to  every  one 
He  will  say,  Where  hast  thou  left  the  souls  of 
these  heathen? — with  the  devil?  Oh,  swiftly  seek 
these  souls,  and  enter  not  without  them  into  the 
presence  of  the  Lord  !  " 

With  these  instructions  from  Father  Gossner  four 
missionaries  sailed  for  India,  about  'fnl^eii  years 
ago.  When  they  reached  Calcutta  they  found  that 
their  proposed  mission  field  was  impracticable,  and 
somewhat  sad  of  heart  they  waited  for  a  fresh  open- 
ing. It  was  not  long,  however,  till  this  was  dis- 
covered, and  they  were  on  their  way  to  preach  the 
gospel  to  the  Kohls. 


BATSCH  AND  HIS  CO-WOBKEBS.  loi 

This  is  one  of  those  wild  tribes  found  in  many 
of  the  mountainous  districts  of  India,  of  an  evi- 
dently different  origin  from  the  surrounding  popula- 
tions notable  for  rude  and  savage  ways,  a  very  low 
and  undeveloped  religion,  consisting  mostly  of  the 
worship  of  good  and  evil  spirits,  and  for  the  con- 
tempt with  which  they  are  regarded  by  the  Hindus. 
There  seems  little  doubt  that  they  are  primitive 
inhabitants,  pushed  up  into  the  mountains  by  the 
pressure  of  foreign  invasions.  Wherever  found, 
whether  in  the  west  or  east,  there  are  broad,  com- 
mon resemblances  between  them,  and  probably 
the  Kohls  present  most  of  the  characteristics  of 
the  race.  The  district  they  inhabit  has  an  area 
of  44,000  square  miles,  and  a  population  of  about 
four  millions,  two-thirds  of  whom  are  Hindus,  and 
the  rest  are  made  up  of  a  number  of  aboriginal 
tribes,  unlike  in  language,  physiognomy,  and  char- 
acter, but  allied  in  worship  and  traditions.  There 
are  Kohls,  Santhals,  Circars,  and  Mundas,  and  it 
was  among  the  former  that  these  German  mission- 
aries determined  to  settle.  They  received  much 
sympathy;  they  were  delighted  with  the  appear- 
ance of  the  country,  which  is  exceedingly  pictur- 
esque and  charming,  a  broken,  wooded,  hilly  country, 


I02  BATSCH  AND  HIS  CO-WORKERS. 

well  diversified  with  water,  and  possessing  the 
climate  of  the  South  of  Europe ;  and  if  the  people 
struck  them  at  first  as  thoroughly  ignorant,  they 
were  also  frank  and  manly.  "  There  are  two 
races  here,"  they  write,  "  thoroughly  distinct.  The 
Hindus  are  bent  on  gain,  merchants  for  the  most 
part,  or  artisans,  keep  close  by  their  idols,  eat  no 
meat,  not  an  egg  even,  for  they  say  there  is  a 
chicken  inside.  The  Kohls  are  simple,  cultivate  the 
soil,  and  are  greatly  oppressed  by  the  Hindus. 
They  are  quite  ready  to  eat  meat,  and  even  count 
rats  and  mice  among  their  luxuries.  Not  long 
ago  an  ox  died  in  our  neighbourhood ;  the  vultures 
collected  to  the  feast,  and  we  feared  lest  the  smell 
should  be  intolerable  the  next  day ;  but  in  the 
morning  the  ox  had  vanished,  for  the  Kohls  had 
eaten  it." 

They  are  the  navvies  of  India :  athletic,  powerful 
men ;  lazy  at  home,  but  capable  of  hard  work 
abroad.  Labourers  are  sought  eagerly  from  Chota 
Nagpore.  Kohls  are  found  on  the  Indian  roads, 
canals,  and  railways ;  in  the  West  Indies,  British 
Guiana,  Australia,  and  the  Mauritius.  The  demand 
induces  emigration.  Every  year  there  are  thou- 
sands who  go  out  to  seek  their  fortune  ;  and  yet 


BATSCR  AND  HIS  CO-WORKERS.  103 

there  are  no  people  more  attached  to  their  birth- 
place ;  nor  would  even  the  high  wages  tempt  them 
to  leave,  were  it  not  for  their  persecution  by  the 
zemindars  at  home.  For  these  zemindars,  who  are 
the  landed  proprietors,  use  every  effort  to  crush 
them,  so  that  they  live  in  terror  of  a  zemindar's 
passion  or  revenge.  Nor  when  they  go  out  into 
the  world  do  they  fare  much  better,  but  are  in  the 
habit  of  hearing  from  their  employers, — You  are 
our  oxen  ;  we  feed  you  ;  and  do  you  mean  to  say 
you  will  do  what  you  please  ? — a  mode  of  argu- 
ment not  unaccompanied  by  blows.  It  is  little 
wonder  tJiat  this  system  of  oppression  and  ill-treat- 
ment has  left  them  a  barbarous  and  uninstructed 
people.  But  this,  as  the  missionaries  soon  found 
out,  was  not  the  worst.  They  had  no  knowledge  of 
a  supreme  and  holy  God,  no  hope  of  a  future  life, 
and  but  a  very  slight  perception  of  the  difference 
between  good  and  evil.  Any  one  who  has  been 
a  witness  of  their  festivals,  cannot  conceive  how  a 
race  of  men  have  sunk  so  low.  Vices  of  every  kind 
flourish  among  them  without  shame  or  restraint. 
Their  devil-worship  leads  them  into  the  cruellest 
practices,  even  the  secret  offering  of  human  sacri- 
fices.    They  worship  him  out  of  fear  lest  he  should 


I04  BATSCH  AND  HIS  CO- WORKERS. 

destroy  tliem  by  the  wild  beasts  of  the  jungle. 
Their  misfortunes  are  attributed  to  an  insufficient 
reverence  for  this  evil  being.  A  father  will  ascribe 
his  child's  death  to  him,  and  straightway  flee  far 
off,  leaving  his  house  and  all  that  he  has.  Cruel 
in  their  superstition,  they  are  cruel  in  their  lives  ; 
wild  and  bloodthirsty  and  merciless  as  the  tiger. 
If  they  have  no  caste  among  themselves,  each  tribe 
is  a  caste  to  all  the  rest.  A  dog  may  lap  from  the 
same  dish,  but  they  will  not  throw  it  away,  but 
quietly  eat  on,  only  taking  care  that  they  do  not 
come  short.  But  as  soon  as  a  man  of  another  tribe, 
although  it  is  a  Brahmin,  unintentionally  shadows 
their  food,  it  is  cast  out  with  the  utmost  abhorrence. 
If  they  were  uneducated  in  the  formidable  mysteries 
of  Brahminism,  they  were  found  within  the  last  fifty 
years  to  have  borrowed  hundreds  of  its  popular  idols, 
and  to  worship  also  trees  and  stones  and  the  sun. 
They  were  devotees  to  their  animal  cravings  ;  and 
if  a  man  had  his  stomach  satisfied,  and  the  brandy- 
bottle  in  his  hand,  he  considered  himself  in  want  of 
nothing.  Whole  villages  were  found  in  ruins;  for 
"  an  evil  spirit  has  settled  in  them."  "  Get  up  ! 
be  off ! "  shouted  the  excited  people  to  the  mission- 
aries, as  they  camped  on  a  little  green  knoU  near 


BATSCH  AND  HIS  CO-WOBKERS.  105 

the  hamlet.  "  Why  ?  "  "  That  is  our  devil's  place  ; 
you  must  not  inconvenience  our  devil."  Whole 
villages  were  sometimes  found  with  a  drunken 
population.  The  people  who  came  to  hear  the 
missionaries  were  drunk.  It  is  not  respectable  for 
a  man  to  get  drunk  till  he  has  children ;  but  after 
that  the  missionaries'  letters  report  a  fearful 
amends  for  this  abstinence.  They  are  fond  of 
music,  and  especially  singing;  and  have  lewd 
dances,  which  they  practise  daily.  They  are  stupid 
towards  all  higher  things,  for  they  have  no  sense  of 
beauty,  or  morals,  or  truth.  And  they  are  helplessly 
obstinate.  "  It  is  no  use  speaking  to  a  Kohl : 
prayer  is  our  great  refuge." 

It  was  among  this  tribe,  barbarous,  cruel,  super- 
stitious, despised,  stupid,  that  the  missionaries 
settled,  and  began  forthwith  to  teach  and  to  preach 
the  gospel  of  the  kingdom.  At  first  they  opened  a 
school,  and  built  an  orphan  house.  Some  children 
were  slowly  sent  in,  and  learned  pretty  hymns,  and 
sung  them  sweetly.  Some  of  these  children  were 
afterwards  brought  into  the  fold  of  the  Good 
Shepherd,  and  died,  as  the  missionary  believes,  in 
Christ.  The  school  had  its  hard  struggle,  however, 
for  at  first  the  fifty  naked  little  things  would  occa- 


io6  BATSCH  AND  HIS  CO-WOBKERB. 

sionally  hurl  round  the  room  with  wild  shouts  and 
laughter,  and  end  with  a  cxj  in  full  chorus  of 
"  Give  me  food,  give  me  clothes  1  give  me  a  book  ! " 
and  the  lessons  must  have  been  oftener  interrupted 
than  profitable.  Still,  the  children  were  sent,  and 
though  there  were  few  if  any  Kohls  among  them, 
it  was  an  actual  result,  and  a  work  that  kept  the 
missionaries'  hearts  from  altogether  sinking.  But 
after  some  time  the  schools  were  less  hopeful,  and 
the  mission  prospects  continued  of  the  gloomiest. 
The  first  house  was  but  built  when  one  of  the 
brethren  died.  Three  arrived  soon  after,  but  one  of 
these  also  died;  and  up  to  1851  the  mission  had 
lost  five  of  the  brethren,  and  one  sister  by  death. 
These  were  heavy  personal  trials,  and  trials  of  an- 
other character  made  them  all  the  more  painful.  As 
soon  as  they  had  learned  the  language,  the  mis- 
sionaries had  begun  evangelistic  tours  through  the 
district.  These  appeared  to  be  without  the  slightest 
results  to  those  for  whom  it  was  begun.  Brahmins 
and  Mohammedans  would  sometimes  collect  round 
the  preacher,  enter  into  conversation,  and  dispute 
with  him,  asking  for  his  book.  The  Kohls  re- 
mained studiously  away,  and  could  by  no  means  be 
drawn   into  any  interest  in  religious  conversation. 


BATSCH  AND  HIS  CO-WOBKERS.  107 

This  continued  for  five  years.  Through  private 
sorrow  and  disappointed  hopes  the  missionaries  had 
held  on.  They  had  never  ceased  to  teach  the  plain 
word  of  God,  nor  to  study  how  best  it  might 
be  brought  before  so  rude  and  careless  a  people. 
They  had  not  lost  their  faith  in  the  work  God 
gave  them  ;  they  were  as  urgent  in  prayer  as  at 
the  first.  Without  a  visible  sign  of  success,  against 
ordinary  rules,  against  their  own  misgivings,  they 
have  been  sustained  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  they 
had  their  reward.  They  were  sure  that  the  Word 
was  a  good  seed  ;  they  were  sure  that  God  could 
prepare  the  hearts  of  the  Kohls  to  receive  it ;  that, 
lodged  there,  it  would  be  a  living  and  glorious 
power.  They  were  sure  also  of  their  duty,  that  it 
was  to  do  precisely  what  they  were  doing,  and  that 
the  consequences  must  abide  in  God's  hands  ;  and 
their  duty  here  corresponded  to  the  promptings 
of  their  honest,  lively  hearts.  In  1850  there 
were  symptoms  that  the  Word  of  God  had  pene- 
trated even  such  gross  and  heavy  hearts.  Kohls 
came  round  the  mission  tent.  They  entered  upon 
religious  subjects.  They  began  to  show  some  notion 
of  sin  ;  although  they  threw  their  sins  over  upon 
the  priests,  and  the  priests  again  upon  the  Com- 


io8  BATSCH  AND  HIS  CO- WORKERS. 

pany,  as  having  the  broadest  shoulders  to  bear  a 
burden,  and  with  some  dim  notion,  that  as  the 
Government  had  taken  the  disposal  of  their  terri- 
tory, it  must  also  have  assumed  the  responsibility 
of  their  conscience.  They  denied  that  they  wor- 
shipped the  devil :  No,  no,  they  cried,  not  that — they 
meant  that  they  only  respected  him.  In  1851,  the 
missionaries  could  report  that  divine  service  was 
well  attended,  and  that  if  in  the  course  of  but  six 
months  they  had  lost  three  faithful  workers,  from 
three  to  four  hundred  heathen  had  been  sent  them 
in  exchange.  "  We  are  now  seven  years,"  wrote 
Brother  Batsch,  "  in  this  land,  and  since  others 
have  followed  us  almost  every  year,  we  have  been 
able  to  establish  three  stations,  where  the  Word 
of  the  Cross  was  preached  without  interruption. 
But  through  these  long  years  it  was  but  trial  of 
our  patience  and  endurance.  The  Word  was  re- 
ceived either  with  mocking  and  scorn,  or  with  the 
deadest  stupidity  and  want  of  concern.  Every- 
thing seemed  to  be  in  vain,  and  many  said  the 
mission  was  useless.  Then  the  Lord  Himself  kind- 
led a  fire  before  our  eyes ;  and  it  seized  not  only 
single  souls,  bat  spread  from  village  to  village,  and 
from    every    side    the    question    was   borne   to   us, 


BATSCH  AND  HIS  CO-WOBKEBS.  109 

What  shall  we  do  ?  How  shall  we  be  saved  1  .  .  .  . 
Many  are  now  baptized,  several  are  candidates  for 
baptism,  others  are  learning  in  order  to  be  received 
on  probation.  The  chapel,  or  our  house,  which 
holds  about  125  persons,  is  not  sufficient  for  the 
worshippers,  and  we  are  compelled  to  think  of 
building  a  church." 

The  beginning  of  the  movement  was  the  baptism 
of  four  of  the  Kohls  in  1850,  persons  of  some  im- 
portance also,  as  two  of  them  were  proprietors  of 
land,  and  the  others  were  by  right,  though  deprived 
of  their  property  by  a  trick  of  their  oppressors, 
the  zemindars.  It  seems  as  if  this  public  act  was 
the  signal.  Immediately  the  people  crowded  in ; 
inquirers  came  in  great  anxiety ;  persons  journeyed 
forty  or  fifty  miles  to  have  an  interview  with  the 
missionaries.  A  severe  outbreak  of  cholera  occur- 
red at  this  time,  and  tested  the  mission  and  the 
converts.  The  heathen  fled  into  the  jungle,  and 
left  entire  villages  depopulated.  The  Christians 
came  the  more  eagerly  to  the  church.  But  the 
thought  that  it  might  be  the  punishment  of  so  many 
forsaking  the  devil-worship,  long  withheld  those  who 
were  only  well-disposed  from  approaching  the  sta- 
tion.    Yet,   soon    again,   it  could  be   written   that 


no  BATSCH  AND  HIS  CO-WORKERS. 

whole  villages  had  declared  themselves  for  Christ, 
and  crowds  stream  in  on  Sunday  from  places  four 
and  five  hours  distant  to  hear  the  good  word. 
Several  families  are  already  baptized,  and  from  four 
to  six  families  will  immediately  receive  baptism. 
These  receptions  of  families  must  have  been  singu- 
larly interesting;  one  mother  coming  with  her  child 
in  her  arms,  and  another  leads  hers  by  the  hand ; 
fathers  and  sons,  grey-haired  men  and  little  ones,  all 
grouped  together,  and  waiting  to  be  received  into 
the  fellowship  of  the  church.  Nor  was  there  any 
laxity  of  admission,  or  wish  to  encourage  numerical 
increase.  Faithful  to  Christ  in  the  days  of  waiting 
and  disappointment,  the  missionaries  ever  kept  as 
faithful  in  the  days  of  success  and  fruition.  The 
baptized  remain  a  year,  sometimes  longer,  under 
probation.  They  came  regularly  to  the  Sunday  ser- 
vices, for  which  they  had  to  suffer  much,  not  merely 
severe  reproaches,  but  oppression  and  actual  wrong. 
Several  were  thrown  into  prison,  others  were  starved, 
others  struck  with  heavy  blows.  They  had  borne 
it  all,  and  held  out  and  witnessed  a  good  confes- 
sion. The  last  three  weeks  before  baptism  they  live 
entirely  under  the  eye  of  the  missionaries,  and 
receive    still    fuller    instructions.      Nor  were  there 


BATSCH  AND  HIS  CO-WORKEES.  ni 

any  temporal  advantages  connected  with  the  mis- 
sion. During  the  time  of  probation  they  were  re- 
quired to  bring  their  own  food;  the  missionaries 
gave  them  nothing  earthly,  only  what  is  hea- 
venly. 

On  the  18th  November,  1851,  the  foundation- 
stone  of  the  church  was  laid  with  some  ceremony, 
in  the  presence  of  many  natives,  and  the  English 
residents.  There  was  much  singing,  and  of  a  more 
advanced  character  than  is  common  in  India ;  there 
were  chorales,  sanctuses,  chants,  and  Te  Deums; 
and  they  were  sung  by  the  native  Christians  in  the 
first  part,  and  very  well.  Singing  is  cultivated 
among  them  with  great  success ;  and  by  their 
natural  aptitude  for  music,  and  their  intense  love  of 
it,  the  Kohls  were  led  rapidly  on.  The  children 
sing  with  as  much  clearness  and  melody  as  in 
Germany ;  and  when  they  sing  before  the  houses  of 
the  brethren,  one  of  them  says  he  could  have  be- 
lieved it  was  the  boys  of  his  gymnasium.  Unless  I 
had  seen  it,  I  could  not  have  believed  that  heathen 
children  could  be  brought  so  far  on.  They  learn 
tunes  quickly.  And  "Ein  feste  Burg,"  which 
Brother  Schatz  translated,  they  are  declared  to  sing 
so  that  Luther  himself  would  have  rejoiced.     The 


112  BATSCH  AND  HIS  CO-WOBKERS. 

cliurcli  they  dedicated  was  completed  after  some 
years,  and  is  a  handsome  Gothic  structure,  capable 
of  accommodating  close  upon  a  thousand  people.  It 
was  built  by  men  who  knew  nothing  either  of  archi- 
tecture or  building,  and  remains  a  monument,  and 
with  every  prospect  of  being  a  lasting  monument,  to 
the  perseverance,  and  readiness,  and  skill,  of  Father 
Gossner's  workmen. 

Meanwhile  the  whole  land  is  seeking  after  re- 
demption. A  lady  of  the  Royal  family  asked  one 
of  the  native  Christians,  "  How  many  people  have 
become  Christians  now  1 "  "  Oh,"  he  said,  "  very 
many  in  Benares,  Calcutta,  Burdwar,  etc."  "No," 
she  replied,  "how  many  in  Nagpore?"  "Very 
many,  and  every  day  there  are  more."  "  Have  any 
of  our  Royal  family  become  Christians  ? "  "  Some 
attend  Divine  service,  but  none  have  been  yet  bap- 
tized." "I  know,  I  know,"  she  added,  "that  the 
whole  land  will  be  Christian,  and  we  too."  Events 
followed  quickly  that  seemed  to  show  she  was  right. 
In  1856,  at  the  times  arranged  for  baptism,  it  was 
no  longer  one  or  two  who  came  forward,  but  forty, 
fifty,  and  as  many  as  seventy-five  at  once.  "  What 
a  blessed  joy  it  was  to  see  them,"  writes  one  at  the 
time.     "  Hundreds  of  Christian  Kohls  filled  the  spa- 


BATSCH  AND  HIS  CO-WORKERS.  113 

cious  lighted  pillared  cliurch,  and  the  seventy-five 
candidates  stood  up,  to  praise  and  confess  God  before 
them  all ;  and  I  thought  it  was  no  more  a  heathen 
land  I  was  in,  but  a  Christian,  and  at  home."  The 
number  of  inquirers  still  continued  to  increase.  They 
no  longer  come  singly,  and,  like  Nicodemus,  by  night, 
but  commonly  many  houses  together,  and  sometimes 
an  entire  village,  or  more  than  one. 

The  Gospel  continued  to  spread  with  amazing 
power,  and  the  few  missionaries  felt  the  burden  of 
their  labours  almost  intolerable,  under  the  pressure 
of  so  many  inquirers.  Just,  however,  when  there 
was  the  most  life  and  hope  for  the  future,  the  rebel- 
lion broke  out ;  the  missionaries  escaped  with  some 
difficulty;  and  for  months  the  Kohls  were  left  as 
sheep  without  a  shepherd.  It  was  a  time  of  intense 
anxiety ;  and  so  soon  as  the  way  became  safe,  the 
missionaries  returned.  They  found  a  sad  picture. 
The  stations  were  in  ruins,  the  books  were  torn  and 
burnt,  the  property  plundered,  and  the  converts 
were  scattered  abroad.  Then  they  came  slowly 
dropping  in,  each  with  a  tale  of  heavy  sorrow.  They 
had  suffered  incredible  hardships ;  had  been  driven 
out  almost  naked  into  the  swamps;  had  been  tor- 
tured with  a  fiendish  barbarity, — stri]Dped  of  every- 


114;  BATSCH  AND  HIS  CO-WORKERS. 

thing  they  possessed  ;  and  now  they  came,  homeless, 
wounded,  wasted,  lame,  sickly  sufferers,  with  wounds 
scarcely  healed,  with  diseases  caught  in  the  swamps  ; 
but  with  the  word  of  God  faster  than  ever  in-  their 
hearts.  They  had  not  betrayed  the  name  of  J6sus, 
but,  by  the  grace  of  God,  had  glorified  Him  in  their 
hungerings  and  persecution.  One  by  one  they 
dropped  in,  and  the  scattered  church  was  again 
gathered  together.  Singularly  enough,  it  was  found 
that  the  number  of  converts  had  largely  increased 
in  the  time  of  trial.  The  persecution  purified  and 
chastened  those  whom  it  overtook ;  they  acted  on 
others  with  greater  singleness  of  purpose  and  more 
devotion  and  spirituality.  The  work  of  God  in  this 
country  has  progressed  at  even  a  more  rapid  speed 
than  before,  and  there  are  at  present  between  800 
and  1000  villages  where  there  are  Christian  families, 
where  there  is  family  and  social  prayer,  and  where 
the  elder  converts  are  daily  instructing  the  younger, 
and  preaching  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ. 

,  This-  mission  has  important  bearings  upon  mission 
work  in  India.  Hitherto  the  natives  have  been 
approached  very  much  by  their  mythologies  and 
philosophies;  the  educated,  well-informed,  high- 
caste  classes  have  been  specially  assailed.    The  result 


BATSCH  AND  HIS  CO-WORKERS.  115 

has  not  been  very  striking,  for  the  conversions  have 
been  for  the  most  part  solitary,  and  there  has  been 
nothing  like  a  local,  much  less  a  national  movement 
towards  Christianity.  On  the  other  hand,  no  sooner 
has  the  gospel  taken  hold  of  rude  tribes,  like  the 
Karens  in  Burmah,  and  the  Kohls,  than  it  becomes 
a  marvellous  energy  and  touches  thousands;  and 
the  people  come  as  a  people  to  the  truth.  These 
Kohls  are  said  to  be  the  best  fitted  for  evangelising 
the  empire.  Once  instructed  themselves,  they  are 
indefatigable  in  teaching  others.  The  tiTith  com- 
pletely masters  them,  they  are  capable  of  enduring 
all  things  for  the  sake  of  Christ.  They  have  much 
honesty,  simplicity,  integrity;  their  moral  firmness, 
developed  by  Christian  teaching,  resembles  more  the 
Anglo-Saxon  than  the  Asiatic  character.  If  the 
entire  province  becomes,  as  there  seems  every  reason 
to  expect,  a  Christian  province,  their  influence  may 
spread  through  all  our  Indian  possessions ;  and  they 
may  be  made  the  means  of  a  general  yielding  up  of 
India  to  the  Gospel. 


i2 


MADAME    ZELL. 


|N  the  3rd  of  December,  1523,  a  mighty 
crowd  thronged  the  aisles  of  the  great 
cathedral  at  Strasburg,  honest,  hearty 
Strasburg  burghers  all  of  them,  dressed  in  their 
stiffest  and  best.  They  were  proud  of  their  beau- 
tiful church,  and  the  giddy  spire,  of  which  the 
older  men  had  seen  the  building :  they  were 
prouder  just  then  of  a  certain  name  that  was 
hummed  about  in  the  crowd.  For  they  had  come 
to  see  a  wedding.  Matthew  Zell,  the  clergyman  of 
St.  Lawrence,  and  the  most  popular  man  in  Stras- 
burg, was  to  be  married  to  Catherine  Schiitz,  the 
carpenter's  daughter.  Zell  had  been  rector  as  well 
as  professor  of  the  University  of  Freiburg,  a  place 
which  he  exchanged  for  the  priesthood  of  St.  Law- 


MADAME  ZELL.  117 

rence  and  the  post  of  Confessor  to  the  Bishop  ;  and 
there  the  priest  soon  became  the  warm  and  daring 
preacher  of  the  Gospel.  Luther's  writings  had 
already  found  adherents  in  the  substantial  middle 
class  and  intelligent  artisans  of  the  town ;  and  Zell's 
sermons  attracted  extraordinary  numbers.  The 
Chapter  interfered  and  shut  up  the  pulpit ;  but  every 
Sunday  the  carpenters  went  into  Winch  Lane,  and 
brought  out  a  pulpit  of  their  own.  "  Why  do  they 
persecute  these  teachers  of  the  truth  ? "  cried  Zell ; 
"  I  will  tell  you ;  because  they  know  that  if  indul- 
gences and  purgatory  are  false,  they  will  get  no 
more  money."  Whereupon  the  Bishop  prosecuted 
him,  but  failed  to  do  more  than  take  away  his 
Confessorship.  This  was  in  the  year  1523,  in  which 
there  had  happened  another  notable  event.  For  in 
the  early  spring  there  had  come  to  Strasburg  a  poor 
Dominican  monk,  by  name  Martin  Bucer,  who,  not 
twelve  months  before,  had  married  a  Benedictine 
nun  ;  and  being  a  scholar  and  a  notable  preacher  of 
the  new  doctrines,  which  he  set  forth  with  the 
charm  of  a  powerful  and  musical  voice,  was  perse- 
cuted from  city  to  city.  His  father  was  a  working 
cobbler  in  some  one  of  the  tortuous  lanes  of  the  old 
town  ;  but  it  was  Zell  who  threw  open  his  parsonage 


ii8  MADAME  ZELL. 

to  the  fugitive  ;  and  from  that  time  they  preached 
on  alternate  Sundays  from  the  same  impromptu 
pulpit  in  the  cathedral.  This  same  Bucer  it  was 
who,  on  the  8rd  of  December,  married  his  friend, 
and  after  the  ceremony  they  all  partook  of  the 
Sacrament  in  both  kinds.  Of  Bucer  it  is  not  needful 
here  to  say  more.  He  lived  long  in  Strasburg  in 
unbroken  intimacy  with  Zell ;  left  in  his  letters  some 
graphic  sketches  of  Zell's  wife  ;  lost  his  own  wife  and 
five  children  by  one  stroke  of  the  plague ;  and  when 
he  married  again,  it  was  a  widow  who  had-  the 
singular  fortune  to  be  the  wife  of  three  of  the  most 
eminent  men  of  the  Reformation,  (Ecolampadius, 
Capito,  and  Bucer,  to  outlive  them  all,  and  to  be 
buried  at  last  in  the  grave  of  the  first.  Neither  of 
Zell  need  more  be  now  said.  He  was  an  earnest, 
loving  man,  who  cared  little  for  public  business  and 
much  for  his  parish ;  inclined  to  make  somewhat 
light  of  controversies  in  which  others  saw  grave 
questions  at  stake  ;  and  tolerant  of  what  seemed  to 
him  the  peculiarities  of  those  who  really  confessed 
Christ.  The  parsonage  that  sheltered  Bucer  soon 
received  Calvin  and  Du  Tillet,  and  Schwenkfeld  had 
his  room  as  well  as  Zwingie.  The  keener  spirits 
hinted  that  he  might  have  been  more  decided  ;  that 


MADAME  ZELL.  '119 

he  was  in  danger  of  losing  his  faith  among  good 
works :  but  he  held  on  unmoved,  and  "  good  Matthew 
,  Zell "  lives  in  grateful  Alsatian  memory  to  this  day. 
Zell's  wife  is  less  known ;  and  for  those  who  know 
no  more  of  her  than  the  hurried  but  lively  sketch 
in  the  last  volume  of  D'Aubigne's  monumental 
''Life  of  Calvin,"  some  details  of  her  life  will  be 
interesting.  She  was  a  woman  of  great  ability,  and 
has  left  a  letter  to  the  citizens  of  her  native  town, 
which  contains  ample  information  of  herself 

"From  my  mother's  womb,"  she  says,  *'the  Lord 
was  my  teacher,  so  that  after  the  measure  of  my 
understanding  and  of  His  grace  I  was  always  diligent 
in  seeking  the  truth  in  Jesus,  and  for  this  cause  was 
a  favourite  with  all  good  ministers.  And  for  the 
same  reason  my  pious  Matthew  Zell,  when  he  began 
the  preaching  of  the  Gospel,  chose  me  for  his  wedded 
wife." 

There  is  certainly  no  concealment  of  herself  in 
this ;  and  throughout  the  Letter  breathes  the  same 
frank  and  healthy  spirit.  There  may  have  been  a 
little  self-consciousness  in  it.  Bucer  querulously 
writes  one  day  that  Zell's  wife  is  over  head  and  ears 
in  love  with  herself,  and  complains  again  that  Zell 
is  ruled  by  a  woman.     She  had  great  energy,  and 


I20  MADAME  ZELL. 

was  likely  enough  to  rouse,  and  sometimes  sway,  her 
more  easy  husband.  But  her  energy  was  always 
thrown  into  the  good  cause.  She  was  as  gentle  and 
tolerant  as  ''  good  Matthew/'  and  her  self-conscious- 
ness is  too  truthfully  transparent  to  be  set  down  as 
mere  vanity.  Perhaps  her  account  of  her  conversion 
will  show  both  sides  of  her  character  in  the  fairest 
light.  "  Since  I  was  ten  years  old  I  was  a  mother 
in  the  Church,  an  ornament  of  the  pulpit  and  the 
school,  esteemed  all  learned  men,  visited  many  of 
them,  and  conversed  not  on  balls  and  carnivals,  but 
on  the  Kingdom  of  God.  For  this  reason  my  father, 
mother,  friends,  and  townsfolk,  and  many  of  those 
learned  persons  I  have  mentioned,  manifested  to  me 
the  highest  honour  and  esteem.  All  the  while  I 
had  great  struggle  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven's  sake. 
In  all  my  works  and  service  of  God;  and  in  my  sore 
pain  of  body,  I  could  find  no  certainty  of  the  love 
and  grace  of  God.  Nor  could  all  the  learned  men 
give  me  comfort.  In  soul  and  body  I  fell  sick  nigh 
unto  death,  and  was  like  the  poor  woman  in  the 
Gospel  that  had  spent  all  her  substance  on  the 
physicians,  but  when  she  heard  of  Christ  and  came 
to  Him  was  helped  by  the  Same.  So  was  it  with 
me  and  many  another  stricken  heart  that  was  with 


MADAME  ZELL.  121 

me  in  that  conflict,  many  noble,  aged  women,  and 
also  virgins,  that  sought  my  society  and  were  my 
companions.  And  as  we  abode  in  such  anxiety,  and 
sought  for  the  grace  of  God,  and  could  find  no  rest 
in  all  our  many  works  nor  in  the  service  and  sacra- 
ments of  the  Church,  God  had  mercy  on  us  and 
many  more,  and  raised  up  the  worthy  and  now 
departed  Doctor  Martin  Luther,  and  sent  him  out 
to  speak  and  write.  And  so  beautifully  did  he 
wiite  to  me  and  others  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
that  it  was  as  if  I  was  drawn  up  out  of  the  pit,  yea 
out  of  grim,  bitter  hell  itself,  into  the  blessed  sweet 
kingdom  of  Heaven.  And  I  thought  on  the  word 
of  the  Lord  Christ  that  He  spake  to  Peter  :  '  I  will 
make  thee  a  fisher  of  men ;  henceforth  thou  shalt 
catch  men  ! '  And  day  and  night  I  sought  to  lay 
hold  of  the  way  of  the  truth  of  God,  which  is  Christ 
the  Son  of  God.  What  trial  I  met  before  I  had 
learned  thoroughly  to  recognise  and  confess  that 
Gospel,  is  known  to  God." 

This  leaning  that  she  had  to  learned  men  comes 
out  distinctly  all  through  her  life.  Luther  and  the 
Bishop  of  Strasburg  were  among  her  coiTespondents ; 
and  her  dehght  scarcely  knew  bounds  when  "for 
fourteen  days  I  was  maid  and  cook  to  CEcolampadius 


122  MADAME  ZELL. 

and  Zwingle"  on  their  way  to  the  Conference  of 
Marburg.  Nay,  in  1534  she  even  accompanied  her 
husband  on  his  journey  to  Wittenberg  to  see  Luther 
on  the  conchision  of  the  Wittenberg  Concordia. 
"  I  am  a  weak  woman,"  she  writes,  "  and  since  I  was 
married  have  had  much  to  do  and  much  to  suffer, 
but  I  loved  my  husband  so  much  that  I  could  not 
let  him  journey  alone  when  he  determined  to  see 
and  hear  our  dear  Doctor  Luther,  and  the  churches 
and  preachers  of  the  towns  by  the  sea.  So  I  left 
my  father  in  his  seventy-fifth  year,  and  my  friends 
and  engagements,  and  travelled  with  my  husband 
on  that  journey  1300  miles  there  and  back." 

Such  tendency  to  learned  men,  however,  was  only 
a  by-play  of  her  life,  one  of  its  amusements.  Her 
real  work  was  the  tending  of  the  poor  and  needy, 
in  which  it  appears  also  that  the  learned  men  had 
their  full  share.  "  From  the  very  commencement  of 
my  wedded  life  I  received  many  illustrious  learned 
fugitives.  Once,  for  example,  fifteen  dear  good  men 
of  the  Margravate  of  Baden  were  pressed  to  go 
against  their  conscience ;  and  there  was  an  aged, 
learned  man  among  them.  Dr.  Mantel  by  name, 
whom  I  had  known  before  :  and  he  came  to  have 
counsel  and   comfort   from   me,  saying   with   tears. 


MADAME  ZELL.  123 

'  I  am  but  a  poor  old  maD,  and  I  have  many  chil- 
dren.' And  when  I  promised  him  Matthew  Zell's 
house  and  home,  how  his  heart  rejoiced  and  his 
feeble  knees  Avere  strengthened !  For  he  had  suf- 
fered much,  and  had  lain  four  years  in  prison.'^ 
There  was  Marx  Heilandt  also,  three  centuries 
predecessor  of  Dr.  Barth  in  Calw,  who  came  at  the 
letter  of  Mistress  Zell,  and  ended  his  weary  life  in 
the  rest  of  the  parsonage.  Nor  were  even  students 
neglected;  for  when,  as  the  Reformation  advanced, 
from  all  parts  men  drew  to  Strasburg,  where  Capito 
read  the  Old  Testament  and  Bucer  the  New,  and 
the  number  of  poor  students  increased,  it  was  Mis- 
tress Zell  who  busied  herself  to  find  a  home  for  them 
in  the  cloisters  of  St.  AVilliam,  and  so  founded  that 
Wilhelnistift  from  which  many  a  Strasburg  scholar 
goes  thankfully  out  into  the  world. 

It  was  in  deeds  like  these  that  the  most  of  Mis- 
tress Zell's  life  was  spent,  until  indeed  it  was  ques- 
tionable whether  she  or  her  husband  was  the  more 
popular  person  in  Strasburg.  Nor  was  there  any 
narrowness  in  her  charity.  Neither  locality  nor 
opinion  affected  it.  If  a  fugitive  loved  Christ,  the 
clergyman's  door  stood  open,  and  the  clergyman's 
wife  ready.     "  All  that  believe  and  confess  the  Lord 


124  MADAME  ZELL. 

Christ,"  she  said,  *'to  be  the  true  Son  of  God  and 
the  alone  Saviour  of  men,  will  share  our  table  and 
rooftree.  "We  must  share  with  them  in  heaven,  be 
they  who  they  may.  Many  are  the  folk  that,  with 
Zell's  knowledge  and  sympathy,  I  have  taken  up, 
and  spoken  or  written  for  them,  whether  the  follow- 
ers of  our  dear  Doctor  Luther,  or  Zwingle,  or 
Schwenkfeld,  or  the  poor  Baptists ;  rich  and  poor, 
wise  and  unwise,  as  St.  Paul  says,  all  might  come. 
What  is  their  name  to  us  ?  We  are  not  bound  to 
be  of  every  opinion  and  creed;  but  we  are  bound  to 
show  every  one  love  and  service  and  mercy,  for  so 
hath  Christ  our  Teacher  taught."  Wise  and  loving 
words,  up  to  which  the  busy  earnest  woman  strove 
to  live.  When  Calvin  and  Du  Tillet  stood  penniless 
and  friendless  in  the  streets  of  Strasburg,  it  was  the 
Zells  that  took  them  in.  When  Schwenkfeld,  aris- 
tocrat and  mystic,  was  driven  from  city  to  city,  it 
was  with  the  Zells  that  he  found  a  haven.  Luther 
might  passionately  call  him  Stinhfeld  ;  Bucer  might 
say  sharp  things  about  heretics ;  but  Catherine  Zell 
stood  by  him,  wrote  to  him,  comforted  him,  yet 
never  yielded  one  jot  to  his  views.  She  dreaded  the 
persecuting  spirit  that  threatened  the  growth  of  the 
Church.    "  These  poor  Baptists,"  she  wrote,  "  against 


MADAME  ZELL.  125 

whom  you  are  so  wrath,  and  would  hunt  the  rulers 
upon  them,  as  a  huntsman  sets  his  dogs  upon  boars 
or  hares — they  confess  Christ  the  Lord  on  that  same 
ground  on  which  we  separated  from  the  Papacy,  the 
redemption  by  free  grace,  If  in  other  things  they 
differ,  must  we  therefore  persecute  them,  and  Christ 
in  them — Christ  whom  they  confess  with  a  zeal  that 
has  brought  many  of  them  into  poverty,  prison,  and 
fire  ?  Kather  than  that,  let  us  think  whether  we  in 
our  doctrine  and  life  are  not  the  cause  of  their 
separation.  Let  the  rulers  punish  them  that  do 
evil,  but  they  have  no  power  to  lord  it  over  our 
faith  :  that  belongs  to  the  heart  and  conscience,  not 
to  the  outward  man.  Were  the  state  to  persecute, 
it  would  inaugurate  a  tyranny  that  would  leave  our 
towns  and  villages  desolate.  Strasburg  happily  still 
stands  an  example  to  the  German  land  of  mercy, 
sjrmpathy,  and  care  of  the  poor  ;  and  God  be  praised, 
is  not  yet  weary  of  sheltering  many  a  poor  Christian 
whom  you  would  like  to  see  expelled :  Matthew 
Zell  never  scattered  the  sheep,  but  gathered  them. 
And  when  the  learned  men  once  called  upon  the 
magistrates  to  help  them  against  heretics,  -with  a 
heavy  heart  and  great  earnestness  he  declared  openly 
from  the  pulpit ;  "  I  take  God,  heaven,  and  earth  to 


126  MADAME  ZELL, 

witness  against  that  day,  that  I  will  be  clear  of 
persecuting  these  poor  folk.' " 

Nobly  spoken  in  any  day,  nobler  then.  It  is  proof 
that  the  principles  of  toleration  were  not  so  unknown 
as  some  would  have  us  fancy,  that  there  may  be  less 
excuse  for  the  breach  of  them  than  we  have  been 
apt  to  recognise.  By  this  Strasburg  woman,  at  least, 
they  are  broadly  stated,  and  with  a  sharpness  not 
unworthy  of  later  times.  It  was  a  clear  and  broad 
faith  she  held,  so  clear  that  she  would  yield  nothing 
of  it  to  the  teaching  of  the  man  she  honoured  most, 
so  broad  that  she  felt  it  must  embrace  minds  widely 
different  from  her  own.  Her  tolerance  sprung  out 
of  the  warmth  of  a  loving  heart,  a  heart  that 
revolted  against  the  teaching  of  force.  But  it  was 
something  higher  than  herself  that  taught  her  to 
enunciate  principles  of  an  after  growth  with  such  a 
fulness  and  protest,  and  by  which  she  showed  herself 
as  much  a  pattern  of  apostolic  charity,  as  she  was  a 
follower  of  apostolic  Dorcas  in  good  works. 

Mistress  Zell  also  was  not  unmindful  of  the  j^ress. 
The  year  after  she  was  married,  she  printed  a  defence 
of  her  husband,  which  the  magistrates  seem  to  have 
suppressed,  no  doubt  finding  it  better  to  let  Zell 
preach,  than  have  his  wife  defend.     But  the  same 


MADAME  ZELL.  127 

year,  when  the  poor  folk  poured  in  from  Kenzingen, 
she  issued  a  more  fortunate  appeal,  ''  To  my  sisters, 
the  suffering,  faithful  Christian  women  of  the  com- 
munity of  Kenzingen."  Ten  years  later,  when  Jacob 
Frdhlich  printed  an  edition  of  Weisse's  Hymn-book, 
she  wrote  a  characteristic  preface,  saying,  that  "  since 
all  the  world  over  there  are  so  many  scandalous 
ballads  sung  by  men  and  women,  and  even  children, 
and  since  the  world  will  always  be  singing  something, 
it  seems  to  me  most  excellent  and  useful,  that  the 
entire  work  of  Christ  for  our  salvation  should  be  set 
forth  in  song,  as  this  good  man  has  done,  so  that  the 
folk  may  sing  their  redemption  with  lusty  hearts  and 
clear  voices,  and  the  devil  may  find  no  room  for  his 
songs  among  them."  Further  writings  have  not 
come  down  to  us;  but  there  are  certain  books  of 
hers,  in  which  she  has  written  out  her  mind  over  the 
broad  margins  in  such  fashion  as,  "  Oh,  Strasburg ! 
if  God  take  away  from  thee  Matthew  Zell,  what  will 
become  of  thy  people  ?  "  or  this,  "  Lord  Christ,  make 
me  live  in  Thee."  Matthew  Zell  indeed  was  devoted 
to  his  wife,  and  no  woman  honoured  her  husband 
more  loyally,  notwithstanding  those  hints  of  female 
supremacy,  dropped  by  Bucer,  if  not  by  Calvin. 
"  My  husband,"  she  says,   "  gave  me  the  heartiest 


i28  MADAME  ZELL. 

permission  for  all  that  I  did,  and  loved  me  the  more 
on  that  account ;  yea,  was  willing  to  suffer  the  want 
of  me  at  times  in  his  own  house,  that  I  might  serve 
the  Church  better."  And  to  Schwenkfeld,  she 
writes :  "  My  dear  husband  always  gave  me  leave 
to  read,  hear,  pray,  study,  early  and  late,  day  and 
night,  as  I  would;  yea,  and  furthered  me  therein, 
and  would  have  been  glad  that  I  should  do  it  even 
at  the  cost  of  his  own  comfort.  Nor  has  he  ever 
hindered  me  from  sj)eaking  to  you,  nor  from  the 
fullest  intercourse,  nor  from  writing  to  you :  he 
never  punished  or  hated  me  on  that  account,  but 
hath  much  the  more  loved  me."  There  was  the 
frankest  confidence  between  them,  and  the  happiest 
kinship  of  aim ;  and  if  Zell's  was  the  most  hospit- 
able house  in  the  town,  it  was  perhaps  the  most  like 
to  a  Christian  home. 

They  had  passed  their  silver  wedding-day  when 
her  husband  died  at  seventy- one.  "  Say  to  all  my 
helpers,"  he  said  to  his  wife  on  his  last  night,  "  my 
deacons,  and  young  preachers,  that  they  must  leave 
Schwenkfeld  and  the  Baptists  in  peace,  and  preach 
Christ ;  and  for  thyself,  continue  to  do  as  thou  hast 
done."  Whereupon  he  slept  away,  praying  for  his 
congregation.     "  And   I  have   striven,"   she   wrote. 


MADAME  ZELL.  129 

"  to  do  as  he  said ;  and  in  the  two  years  and  eleven 
weeks  I  remained  behind  him  in  the  parsonage  I 
have  thrown  it  open  to  the  poor  and  persecuted,  and 
helped  the  Church  at  my  own  cost,  as  before."  But 
evil  days  came  to  the  now  aged  widow.  The  com- 
promise of  the  Augsburg  Interim  filled  her  with 
shame  and  foreboding.  Bucer  had  fled  for  refuge  in 
England;  and  with  the  scattering  of  her  friends 
there  rose  up  a  new  generation  of  an  opposite  spirit. 
A  bigoted,  exaggerated  Lutheranism  reigned  in 
Strasburg  in  place  of  the  free,  loving  preaching  of 
the  Word ;  and  Louis  Babus,  its  chief,  was  a  poor 
lad  whom  Zell  had  taken  into  his  house,  and  his 
wife  cared  for  as  a  mother.  Rabus  even  spoke 
bitterly  or  contemptuously  of  the  good  old  Strasburg 
teachers,  at  last  of  Zell  himself.  Catherine  Zell  was 
not  the  woman  to  see  a  slight  put  upon  her  hus- 
band's memory  and  the  good  cause.  She  wrote  him 
a  kindly  letter,  and  was  answered  with  grossness.* 
She  replied  to  this  in  the  spirit  she  had  lived : 
"  Dear  Master  Louis,  a  year  ago  I  wrote  you  a 
friendly,  motherly,  and  most  true  epistle,  impelled 
thereto  by  weighty  reasons.     You  returned  an  un- 

*  "  I  have  received  tliy  heathenish,  unchristian,  filthy,  and  lying 
letter,"  so  Rabus  began. 

K 


I30  MADAME  ZJELL. 

friendly  answer.  And  I  am  vexed,  as  one  who  loves 
you  and  seeks  your  true  welfare."  So  the  letter 
runs  on  with  mild  entreaty,  but  firm  statement  of 
opinion,  written  with  the  already  trembling  hand  of 
advancing  years.  "  0,  blessed  Wolf  Capito  ! "  she 
breaks  out  towards  the  end,  "  Caspar  Hedio,  Matthew 
Zell,  how  well  for  you,  you  rest  in  Christ !  you  who 
never  gave  up  your  fellow- workers  to  the  devil ! 
But  God  has  had  mercy  upon  you,  and  in  his  grace 
taken  you  away  from  the  evil  to  come.  Blessed  be 
his  name !     Amen." 

Meanwhile  her  charities  held  on  unbroken.  Her 
means  might  be  small,  but  her  heart  was  large* 
When  Bucer  fled  to  England,  he  left  some  gold 
pieces  enclosed  in  a  letter  to  the  widow.  When  she 
found  it,  she  wrote  off  at  once  : — "  You  have  greatly 
hurt  me  by  leaving  those  two  pieces  of  gold  behind. 
.  .  .  .  I  put  them  now  back  again,  as  Joseph 
did  with  his  brethren.  A  poor  preacher,  with  five 
children,  came  to  me  fleeing  from  the  Interim ;  and 
there  came  also  a  preacher's  wife  that  had  seen  with 
her  own  eyes  her  husband  beheaded.  I  kept  them 
ten  days,  and  at  parting  gave  them  one  of  the  gold 
pieces,  not  for  my  sake,  but  yours  :  and  the  other  is 
inside.     You  must  use  it  yourself,  for  you  will  have 


MADAME  ZELL.  131 

need  of  it,  and  likewise  your  family,  if  tliey  must 
follow  you  to  England.  God  keep  you  eternally,  and 
defend  you  from  all  his  and  your  enemies  !  " 

So  the  good  true-hearted  woman  lived  on ;  falling 
slowly  into  the  infirmities  of  years,  helping  the  poor, 
writing  to  her  friends,  and  still  remembering  with 
pride  that  she  was  "  only  a  piece  of  the  rib  of  the 
blessed  Matthew  Zell."  Fourteen  years  after  her 
husband's  death  she  was  yet  alive,  but  worn  out  with 
weary  sickness,  and  unable  for  months  to  hold  a  pen. 
Her  death  cannot  have  been  long  delayed ;  and  when 
it  came,  no  doubt  it  found  her  as  she  had  lived — a 
Mother  in  Israel. 


K  2 


GEORGE  NEUMARK. 


HE  Thirty  Years'  War  was  over,  and 
Germany  rested  from  blood.  Two  years 
after  the  peace  a  young  man  was  liv- 
ing in  one  of  the  narrowest  and  filthiest  lanes  of 
Hamburg.  No  one  visited  him,  and  all  that  the 
people  of  the  house  knew  of  him  was  that  for 
the  most  part  of  every  day  he  played  his  violon- 
cello with  such  skill  and  expression  that  they 
thronged  round  his  door  to  catch  the  music.  His 
custom  was  to  go  out  about  mid-day  and  dine  in  a 
low  restaurant  frequented  by  beggars ;  for  the  rest, 
he  would  go  out  in  the  twilight  with  something 
under  his  shabby  cloak,  and  it  was  always  noted  that 
he  paid  his  bill  the  day  after  such  an  expedition. 
This   had   not    escaped    the   curiosity   of    Mistress 


GEORGE  NEUMARK.  133 

Johannsen,  his  landlady,  and  having  quietly  followed 
him  one  evening,  he  stopped,  to  her  dismay,  at  the 
shop  of  a  well-known  pawnbroker.  It  was  all  plain 
now;  and  the  goodnatured  woman  determined  to 
help  him  if  she  could. 

A  few  days  after  she  tapped  at  his  door,  and  was 
filled  with  pity  to  find  nothing  in  the  room  but  her 
own  scanty  furniture.  All  the  rest  had  been  re- 
moved save  the  well-known  violoncello,  which  stood 
in  a  corner  of  the  window,  whilst  the  young  man 
sat  in  the  opposite  window-corner,  his  head  buried 
in  his  hands. 

"  Mr.  Neumark,"  said  the  landlady,  "  don't  take  it 
ill  that  I  make  so  free  as  to  visit  you ;  but  as  you 
have  not  left  the  house  for  two  days,  and  we  have 
had  no  music,  I  thought  you  might  be  sick.  If  I 
could  do  anjrthing " 

"Thank  you,  my  good  woman,"  he  answered 
wearily,  and  with  a  sad  gratitude  in  his  tone.  "  I 
am  not  confined  to  bed,  and  I  have  no  fever ;  but  I 
am  ill — very  ill." 

"  Surely,  then,  you  ought  to  go  to  bed  ? " 

"  No,"  he  replied  quickly,  and  blushed  deeply. 

"Oh,  but  you  must,"  cried  Mistress  Johannsen 
boldly.     "  Now  just  allow  me.     I'm  an  old  woman 


134  GEORGE  NEUMABK. 

old  enough  to  be  your  mother,  and  I  will  just  see  if 
your  bed  is  all  right." 

"Pray  don't  trouble  yourself,"  he  replied,  and 
sprang  up  quickly  before  the  bedroom  door. 

It  was  too  late,  however ;  for  the  good  woman  had 
already  seen  that  there  was  nothing  but  a  bag  of 
straw,  and  that  same  shabby  mantle  in  which  he 
made  the  evening  journeys. 

"  My  good  woman,"  said  Neumark,  quickly,  "  you 
are  perhaps  afraid  that  I  will  not  pay  the  next  rent ; 
but  make  yourself  easy ;  I  am  poor,  but  honourable. 
It  is  sometimes  hard  enough,  but  I  have  never  been 
left  utterly  destitute  yet." 

"  Mr.  Neumark,"  she  replied,  with  some  hesitation, 
and  after  mustering  all  her  courage,  "  we  have  little 
ourselves,  but  sometimes  more  than  enough — as,  for 
instance,  to-day ;  and  as  you  have  not  been  out,  if 
you  would  allow  me " 

The  young  man  coloured  deeply  again,  rose  from 
his  seat,  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  and  then, 
with  apparent  effort,  said,  "  You  are  right.  I  have 
not  eaten  to-day.     I " 

Without  waiting  for  another  word,  the  landlady 
had  [left  the  room,  and  in  a  few  minutes  returned 
laden  with  dinner. 


GEORGE  NEUMARK.  135 

''You  must  not  take  it  ill,"  she  began,  when 
dinner  was  over ;  "  but  you  are  surely  not  a  native 
of  our  town.     Do  you  not  know  any  one  here  ? " 

"  No  one.  I  am  a  stranger ;  and  you  are  the  first 
person  that  has  spoken  to  me  kindly.  May  God 
bless  you ! " 

"  Well  now,  if  it  would  not  be  rude,  I  would  like 
to  ask  you  some  questions.  Who  are  you  ?  What 
is  your  name  ?  Where  do  you  come  from  ?  What 
is  your  business  ?  Are  you  a  musician  ?  Are  your 
parents  alive  ?     What  are  you  doing  in  Hamburg  1 " 

Breathless  rather  than  exhausted,  she  stopped, 
and  the  young  man,  smiling  at  his  goodnatured  cate- 
chist,  began  : — "  My  name  is  George  Neumark.  My 
parents  were  poor  townsfolk  of  Miihlhausen,  and  are 
both  dead.  I  was  born  there  nine-and-twenty  years 
ago,  on  the  16th  March,  1621.  There  have  been 
hard  times  ever  since,  and  I  have  had  to  eat,  and 
often  first  to  seek,  my  daily  bread  with  tears.  Yet  I 
must  not  be  impatient,  and  murmur  and  sin  against 
the  Lord  my  God.  I  know  that  He  will  help  me  at 
the  last." 

"  But  how  did  you  think  to  get  your  living  ?  '* 
interrupted  the  landlady. 

"  I  studied  jurisprudence ;  and  there  I  fear  I  made 


136  GEORGE  NEUMABK. 

a  fatal  mistake,  since  both  by  disposition  and  from 
love  to  my  Saviour  I  am  a  man  of  peace,  and  cannot 
take  to  these  quarrels  and  processes.  Had  I  under- 
stood my  God's  will  when  I  commenced  those  studies, 
it  had  been  better.  But  to  continue  my  story :  for 
ten  years  I  suffered  hunger  and  thirst  enough  at  the 
Latin  school  of  Schleusingen,  a  little  town  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  my  birthplace,  where  I  learned 
that  the  wisdom  of  this  world  will  not  bring  me 
bread.  Then,  at  two-and-twenty,  I  went  to  Konigs- 
berg  to  study  law.  It  was  far  to  journey,  but  I  fled 
from  the  hideous  strife  that  wasted  my  fatherland. 
I  avoided  the  horrors  of  war,  but  only  to  fall  into 
the  equal  horror  of  fire,  and  I  soon  lost  by  the 
flames  all  I  had,  to  the  last  farthing,  and  was  a 
beggar." 

"  My  poor  man !  Did  not  that  leave  you  in 
despair  ? " 

"  I  won't  appear  better  than  I  was ;  and  as  I 
strove  in  the  great  city,  without  friend  or  help,  my 
heart  sank  ;  but  the  dear  God  had  mercy  on  me, 
and  if  I  bore  the  cross,  I  lived  well  in  body  and 
soul" 

"  Why,  what  had  you  to  live  on  ? " 

"  The  gift  of  God.     You  must  know  that  I  am  a 


GEORGE  NEUMAEK.  137 

poet,  and  may  have  heard  that  I  have  some  readi- 
ness in  pla}dng  the  violoncello,  and  by  these  I  found 
many  friends  and  benefactors,  who  helped  me  indeed 
sparingly  enough." 

"  And  did  you  remain  in  Konigsberg  till  you  came 
herer' 

"  No,"  he  answered,  sighing  heavily.  "  After  five 
years  I  went  to  Danzig,  in  the  hope  of  earning  bread 
there,  and  finding  that  a  false  hope,  went  on  to 
Thorn,  and  there  succeeded  beyond  my  expectation. 
God  brought  to  me  many  a  dear  soul  that  took  me 
for  friend  and  brother.  But  for  all  that  I  could  find 
no  official  position,  and  so  I  determined  at  last  to 
seek  in  my  native  town  what  was  denied  me  else- 
where. Hamburg  lay  in  my  way,  and  as  I  passed 
through  it  a  voice  seemed  to  say  to  me :  '  Abide 
here,  and  God  will  supply  thee.'  But  it  must  have 
been  the  voice  of  my  own  will ;  for  you  know  now 
that  things  are  not  bright  with  me  here." 

"  But  tell  me,"  said  the  landlady,  "  what  office  do 
you  seek  ? " 

"  If  it  were  God's  will,  I  could  earn  my  bread  at 
scrivening,  or  a  clerkship  of  any  sort." 

"  Then  you  are  not  a  musician  1 " 

"  Well,  I  am,  and  I  am  not.     I  can  play  a  little, 


138  GEOBGE  NEUMABK. 

but  for  my  pleasure,  not  to  win  bread.  This  violin 
is  my  only  friend  in  the  world." 

"  But  how  do  you  live  ?  " 

"  My  good  woman,"  he  said,  with  a  faint  smile,  "  I 
could  tell  you  much  of  the  wonderful  goodness  and 
mercy  of  God  to  me  in  all  my  misery.  It  is  true  I 
have  now  nothing  left  but  this  dear  old  violin.  But 
you  know  Mr.  Siebert  ?  He  has  a  clerkship  vacant, 
and  he  is  to  answer  my  application  to-day.  I  believe 
it  is  time  for  me  to  be  with  him,  so  you  must  excuse 
me." 

II. 

Nathan  Hirsch,  the  Jew  pawnbroker,  dwelt  in  one 
of  the  narrow,  crooked  lanes  that  led  down  to  the 
harbour.  He  listened  from  morning  till  night  to  the 
music  of  the  steps  that  crossed  his  threshold.  Late 
one  evening  a  young  man  in  a  shabby  cloak  entered 
the  musty  shop. 

"Good  evening,  Mr.  Neumark,"  said  the  Jew. 
"  What  brings  you  so  late  ?  Have  you  no  patience 
tiU  the  morning  ? " 

"  No,  Nathan ;  if  I  had  waited  till  the  morning, 
perhaps  I  had  not  come  at  aU.  What  will  you  give 
me  for  this  violoncello  ? " 


GEORGE  NEUMABK.  139 

"  Now,  what  am  I  to  do  with  this  great  fiddle  ? " 
drawled  the  Jew. 

"  That  you  know  perfectly  well,  Nathan.  Put  it 
in  the  corner  there  behind  the  clothes,  where 
no  one  will  see  it.  Now,  what  will  you  give  me 
for  it  ? " 

Nathan  took  it  up,  examined  it  on  every  side,  and 
said,  as  he  laid  it  down, 

"  What  will  I  give  you  ?  Is  it  for  twopence-worth 
of  wood  and  a  couple  of  old  strings  ?  I  have  seen 
fiddles  with  silver  and  mother-of-pearl ;  but  there  is 
nothing  here  but  lumber." 

"  Hear  me,"  said  Neumark.  "  Full  five  years  long 
I  hoarded,  farthing  by  farthing,  full  five  years  I 
suffered  hunger  and  pain,  before  I  had  the  five 
pounds  that  bought  this  instrument.  Lend  me  two 
on  it.  You  shall  have  three  should  I  ever  redeem 
it." 

The  Jew  flung  up  his  hands. 

"  Two  pounds  !     Hear  him  !     Two   pounds   for  a 
pennyworth  of  wood  !     What  am  I  to  do  with  it,  if 
you  won't  redeem  it  ?" 

"Nathan" — and  the  young  man  spoke  low  and 
strong — "  you  don't  know  how  my  whole  soul  is  in 
this  violin.     It  is  my  last  earthly  comfort,  my  only 


I40  GEORGE  NEUMARK, 

earthly  friend.  I  tell  thee,  I  might  almost  as  well 
pawn  my  soul  as  it.     Wouldst  thou  have  my  soul  ? " 

"Why  not?  And  if  you  did  not  redeem  it,  it 
would  be  mine.  But  what  would  the  Jew  do  with 
your  soul  ? " 

"  Hush,  Jew.  Yet  the  fault  was  my  own.  The 
Saviour  whom  thy  people  crucified  has  redeemed  my 
soul,  and  I  am  His.  I  spoke  in  the  lightness  of 
despair.  But  I  am  His,  and  He  will  never  suffer 
me  to  want.  It  is  hard  when  I  must  sacrifice  the 
last  and  dearest.  But  He  will  help  me.  I  will  pay 
thee  back." 

"  Young  man,  you  will  not  deceive  me  with  these 
vain  hopes.  The  last  time,  did  you  not  tell  me  that 
a  rich  merchant  would  help  you  ?  " 

"  Siebert  ?  Yes.  I  went  to  him  at  his  own  hour, 
and  he  said  I  came  too  late :  the  place  was  given  to 
another.  Am  I  to  bear  the  penalty  of  the  conduct 
of  others  ?  " 

"  I  deal  with  you,  and  not  with  others,"  returned 
the  Jew,  coldly.     "  Take  your  great  fiddle  away." 

"  Nathan,  you  know  I  am  a  stranger  here.  Re- 
member when  you  were  a  stranger,  and  the  Christ- 
ian helped  the  Jew.  I  know  no  one  but  you.  Give 
me  but  thirty  shillings." 


GEORGE  NEUMAEK.  141 

"  Thirty  shillings  !  Have  I  not  said  already  that 
no  merchant  can  give  thirty  shillings  for  a  penny- 
worth of  wood  ? " 

"Thou  art  a  hard  and  cruel  man."  And  with 
these  words  Neumark  snatched  up  his  beloved 
violoncello  and  rushed  out  of  the  shop. 

"  Stop,  stop,  young  man,"  cried  the  Jew ;  "  trade 
is  trade.     I  will  give  you  one  pound." 

"Thirty  shillings,  Nathan.  To-morrow,  I  must 
pay  one  pound,  and  how  am  I  to  live?  Have 
mercy." 

"I  have  sworn  that  I  will  not  give  thirty  shil- 
lings ;  but  out  of  old  friendship  I  will  give  you  five- 
and-twenty  :  that  is  (you  will  note),  with  a  penny 
interest  on  every  florin  for  eight  days,  and  for  the 
next  week  twopence,  and  if  you  cannot  pay  me  then, 
it  is  mine.  Now,  what  am  I  to  do  with  this  great 
piece  of  wood  ? " 

"  It  is  hard :  but  I  must  submit.  May  God  have 
mercy  on  me  ! " 

"  He  is  a  good  and  faithful  God,  the  God  of  my 
fathers,  and  He  helped  me  much,  or  I  could  not 
afford  to  lose  by  such  bargains  as  this.  Twelve 
pence  and  four-and-twenty  pence  make  six-and- 
thirty.     I  may   as   well   take   it   off  the   five-and- 


142  GEOEGE  NEUMARK. 

twenty  shillings.  It  will  save  you  bringing  it  back 
here." 

Neumark  made  no  answer.  He  was  gazing  at  his 
violoncello,  while  the  tears  rolled  silently  down  his 
cheek. 

"Nathan,  I  have  bnt  one  request.  You  don't 
know  how  hard  it  is  to  part  from  that  violin.  For 
ten  years  we  have  been  together.  If  I  have  nothing 
else  I  have  it ;  at  the  worst  it  spoke  to  me,  and  sung 
back  all  my  courage  and  hope.  Ten  times  rather 
would  I  give  you  my  heart's  blood  than  this  beloved 
comforter.  Of  all  the  sad  hearts  that  have  left  your 
door,  there  has  been  none  so  sad  as  mine." 

His  voice  grew  thick,  and  he  paused  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  Just  this  one  favour  you  must  do  me,  Nathan — 
to  let  me  play  once  more  upon  my  violin." 

And  he  hurried  to  it  without  waiting  for  an 
answer. 

"  Hold  !  "  cried  the  Jew  in  a  passion  ;  "  the  shop 
should  have  been  closed  an  hour  ago  but  for  you 
and  your  fiddle.  Come  to-morrow,  or,  better,  not  at 
all." 

"  No — to-day — now,"  returned  Neumark.  "  I 
must  say  farewell,"  and  seizing  the  instrument,  and 


GEORGE  NEUMAEK.  143 

half- embracing  it,  he  sat  down  on  an  old  chest  in 
the  middle  of  the  shop,  and  began  a  tune  so  exqui- 
sitely soft  that  the  Jew  listened  in  spite  of  himself 
A  few  more  strains,  and  he  sang  to  his  own  melody 
two  stanzas  of  the  hymn — 

"  Life  is  weary,  Saviour  take  me." 

"  Enouo^h,  enouofh,"  broke  in  the  Jew.  "  What  is 
the  use  of  all  this  lamentation  ?  You  have  five-and- 
twenty  shillings  in  your  pocket." 

But  the  musician  was  deaf  Absorbed  in  his  own 
thoughts,  he  played  on.  Suddenly  the  key  changed. 
A  few  bars,  and  the  melody  poured  itself  out  anew ; 
but,  like  a  river  which  runs  into  the  sunshine  out  of 
the  shade  of  sullen  banks,  he  sang  louder,  and  his 
face  lighted  up  with  happy  smiles — 

"  Yet  who  knows  ?    The  cross  is  precious. " 

"  That's  better.  Stick  by  that,"  shouted  the  Jew. 
"And  don't  forget  that  you  have  five-and-twenty 
shillings  in  your  pocket.  Now,  then,  in  a  fortnight 
the  thing  is  mine  if  you  have  not  redeemed  it." 
And  he  turned  aside,  muttering  mechanically,  "  but 
what  am  I  to  do  with  a  great  piece  of  lumber 
wood  ? " 

Neumark  laid  his  violin  gently  back  in  the  corner. 


144  GEORGE  NEUMABK. 

and  murmured,  "  Ut  fiat  divina  voluntas,  As  God 
will,  I  am  still : "  and  without  a  word  of  adieu,  left 
the  shop. 

As  he  rushed  out  into  the  night,  he  stumbled 
against  a  man  who  seemed  to  have  been  listening  to 
the  music  at  the  door. 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,  but  may  I  ask  if  it  was  you  who 
played  and  sung  so  beautifully  just  now  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Neumark,  hurriedly,  and  pushed  on. 

The  stranger  seized  hold  of  his  cloak — "  Pardon 
me,  I  am  but  a  poor  man,  but  that  hymn  you  sung 
has  gone  through  my  very  soul.  Could  you  tell  me, 
perhaps,  where  I  might  get  a  copy  ?  I  am  only  a 
servant,  but  I  would  give  a  florin  to  get  this 
hymn — that  was  just  written,  I  do  believe,  for  my- 
self." 

"  My  good  friend,"  replied  Neumark,  gently,  "  I 
will  willingly  fulfil  your  wish  without  the  florin. 
May  I  ask  who  you  are  ? " 

"  John  Gutig,  at  your  service,  and  in  the  house  of 
the  Swedish  Ambassador,  Baron  von  Rosenkranz." 

"  Well,  come  early  to-morrow  morning.  My 
name  is  George  Neumark  ;  and  you  will  find  me 
at  Mistress  Johannsen's^  in  the  Crooked  Lane.  Good 
night" 


GEORGE  NEUMABK.  145 


III 


One  morning,  about  a  week  after  this,  Gutig  paid 
a  second  visit  to  Mistress  Johannsen's.  Neumark 
received  him  kindly. 

"  Perhaps,  sir,  you  will  think  what  I  am  going  to 
say  foolish  ;  but  I  have  prayed  over  it  the  whole 
night,  and  I  hope  I  may  make  so  bold " 

"  What  ?  Is  it  a  second  copy  of  the  hymn  ?  Of 
course,  you  may  have  it  with  pleasure." 

"  No,  no,  sir ;  it  is  not  that.  I  have  the  copy  you 
gave  me  in  my  Bible,  to  keep  it  better;  though  if  it 
were  lost,  I  think  I  have  it  as  well  off  as  the  Lord's 

Prayer  and  the  Creed.     But  yesterday You  won't 

take  it  ill  ?" 

"  Never  mind  ;  go  on." 

"  Well,  sir,  the  ambassador  had  a  secretary  that 
wrote  all  his  letters.  Yesterday  he  suddenly  left  the 
house  ;  why,  no  one  knew ;  but  we  believed  that  the 
master  found  him  in  default  and  let  him  easily  off. 
Yesterday  evening,  as  I  saw  my  lord  to  bed,  he  said 
to  me,  '  Now  that  Mr.  Secretary  is  gone,  I  know  not 
where  to  look  for  as  clever  a  one.'  Somehow  your 
name  came  into  my  mind  ;  for  the  secretary  lives  in 
the  house,  and  is  entertained  at  the  table,  and  has  a 


146  GEORGE  NEUMARK. 

hundred  crowns  a  year  paid  down.     So  I  said,  '  My 

lord,  I  know  some  one '     '  You  ! '  lie  cried,  and 

laughed ;  '  have  you  a  secretary  among  your  friends  V 
*  No,  my  lord,'  said  I ;  '  though  I  know  him,  I  am 
much  too  humble  to  have  him  for  a  friend  or  acquain- 
tance/ So,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  sir,  I  told 
him  all " 

"  All  ! "  interrupted  Neumark.  *'  And  that  you 
made  my  acquaintance  on  the  doorstep  of  Nathan 
Hirsch,  the  Jew  pawnbroker,  where  I  was  pledging 
my  violin  ? " 

"  Yes,  all  that,"  replied  Gutig ;  "  and  if  I  have 
done  wrong  I  am  very  sorry  ;  only  my  heart  was  so 
full.  My  lord  was  not  offended,  but  bid  me  bring 
your  hymn,  to  see  how  you  wrote.  '  Writing  and 
poetiy  both  admirable,'  he  said,  as  he  laid  it  down  ; 
'  and  if  the  young  man  would  come  at  once,  I  would 
see ;  perhaps  he  might  do.'  I  was  uneasy  after- 
wards lest  you  might  be  hurt,  sir ;  and  between  that 
and  wishing  you  might  be  secretary,  I  could  scarcely 
wait  for  the  morning.  The  ambassador  likes  an 
early  visit,  and  if  you  would  pardon  me,  sir,  and 
think  well  of  it,  you  might  go  to  him  at  once." 

Neumark,  instead  of  answering,  walked  up  and 
down  the  room.     "  Yes,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  the 


GEORGE  NEUMABK,  147 

Lord's  ways  are  surely  wonderful.  They  that 
trust  in  the  Lord  shall  not  want  any  good  thing." 
Then  turning  to  the  servant,  "  God  reward  you  for 
what  you  have  done  !     I  shall  go  with  you." 

The  ambassador  received  him  kindly. 

"  You  are  a  poet,  I  see,  by  these  verses.  Do  you 
compose  hymns  only  ?  " 

"  Of  the  poor,"  said  Neumark,  after  a  moment's 
pause,  "  it  is  written,  theirs  is  the  hingdom  of  hea- 
ven. I  never  knew  any  one  who  was  rich  and  en- 
joyed tliis  world  that  had  written  a  hymn.  It  is 
the  cross  that  presses  such  music  out  of  us." 

The  ambassador  looked  surprised,  but  not  dis- 
pleased. "  You  certainly  do  not  flatter  us,"  he  said. 
"  But,  young  man,  your  experience  is  but  narrow. 
Yet  you  might  remember  that  our  King  Gustavus 
Adolphus,  though  he  lived  in  the  state  and  glory  of 
the  throne,  not  only  composed,  but  sung  and  played 
a  right  noble  Christian  hymn.  However,  you  are 
poor,  very  poor,  if  my  servant's  account  be  correct. 
Has  poverty  made  you  curse  your  life  ? " 

"  I  thank  the  Lord,  never,  though  I  have  been 
near  it.  But  He  always  kept  the  true  peace  in  my 
heart.  Moreover,  the  Lord  said,  '  the  poor  ye  have 
always  ; '  and  another  time  he  called  them  blessed ; 

L  2 


148  GEORGE  NEUMABK. 

and  was  Himself  poor  for  our  sakes,  and  commanded 
the  Gospel  to  be  preached  to  the  poor ;  and  the  very 
poor,  as  the  Apostle  says,  may  yet  make  many  rich. 
It  is  not  so  hard,  after  all,  to  be  reconciled  with 
poverty." 

"  Gallantly  answered,  like  a  man  of  faith.  We  may 
have  opportunity  to  speak  of  that  again. — I  hear 
that  you  have  studied  law.  Do  you  think  you  could 
sift  papers  that  require  a  knowlege  of  jurisprudence 
and  p)olitics  ? " 

"  If  your  grace  would  try  me,  I  would  attempt 
it." 

"  Well,  then,  take  these  papers  and  read  them 
through.  They  contain  inqviiries  from  Chancellor 
Oxenstiern  and  the  answers  I  have  been  able  to  pro- 
cure. Bring  me  a  digest  of  the  whole.  You  may 
take  your  own  time,  and  when  you  are  ready,  knock 
at  the  next  door." 

IV. 

Neumark  left  the  hotel  of  the  ambassador  that 
evening  with  a  radiant  face,  and  as  he  walked 
quickly  through  the  streets,  talked  with  himself, 
while  a  smile  stole  across  his  lips.  "  Yes,  yes  ;  leave 
God  to  order  all  thy  ways." 


GEORGE  NEUMABK. 


149 


It  was  to  Jew  Nathan's  that  he  took  his  way. 

"  Give  me  my  violoncello,"  he  cried.     "  Here  are 

the  five-and -twenty  shillings  and  half-a-crown  more. 

You  need  not  be  so  amazed.    I  know  you  well.    You 

took  advantage  of  my  poverty,  and  had  I  been  an 

hour  beyond  the  fortnight  you  would  have  pocketed 

the  five  pounds.     Still,  I  thank  you  for  the  five-and- 

twenty  shillings :  but  for   them  I   must   have   left 

Hamburg  a  beggar.     Nor  can  I  feel  that  you  did 

anything  yourself,  but  were  simply  an  instrument  in 

the  hand  of  God.     You  know  nothing  of  the  joy  that 

a  Christian  has  in  saving  another,  so  I  pay  you  in 

what  coin  you  like  best,  an  extra  half-croAvn.     Here 

are  the  one  pound  seven  and  sixpence  in  hard  money. 

Only  remember  this, 

*  "Who  trusts  in  God's  unchanging  love, 
Builds  on  the  rock  that  nought  can  move.'  " 

Seizing  his  violoncello  in  triumph,  Neumark 
swept  homewards  with  hasty  steps,  never  pausing 
till  he  reached  his  room,  sat  down,  and  began  to 
play  with  such  a  heavenly  sweetness,  that  Mistress 
Johannsen  rushed  in  upon  him  with  a  storm  of 
questions,  all  of  which  he  bore  unheeding,  and 
played  and  sang  until  his  landlady  scarce  knev^'  if 
she  was  in  heaven  or  on  earth. 


ISO  GEORGE  NEUMABK. 

"Are  you  there,  good  Mistress  Johannsen?"  lie 
said  when  he  had  finished.  "  Well,  perhaps  you 
will  do  me  the  kindness  to  call  in  as  many  people 
as  there  are  in  the  house  and  in  the  street.  Brinof 
them  all  in,  and  I  will  sing  you  a  hynm  that  you 
never  heard  before,  for  I  am  the  happiest  man  in 
Hamburg.  Go,  dear  good  woman  ;  go,  bring  me  a 
congregation,  and  I  will  preach  them  a  sermon  on 
my  violoncello." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  room  was  full.     Then  Neu- 

mark  seized  his  bow,  played  a  bar  or  two,  opened 

his  mouth  and  sang. 

' '  Leave  God  to  order  all  thy  ways, 

And  hope  in  Him,  whate'er  betide  ; 
Thou' It  find  him  in  the  evil  days 

Of  all-sufficient  strength  and  guide. 
"Who  trusts  in  God's  unchanging  love, 
Builds  on  the  rock  that  nought  can  move. 

"  "What  can  these  anxious  cares  avail, 

These  never-ceasing  moans  and  sighs  ? 

What  can  it  help  us  to  bewail 
Each  painful  moment  as  it  flies  ? 

Our  cross  and  trials  do  but  press 

The  heavier  for  our  bitterness. 

"  Only  your  restless  heart  keep  still, 
And  wait  in  cheerful  hope,  content 
To  take  whate'er  His  gracious  will, 

His  all-discerning  love,  hath  sent ; 
Nor  doubt  our  inmost  wants  are  known 
To  Him  who  chose  us  for  His  own. 


GEORGE  NEUMABK.  151 

*'  He  knows  when  joyful  hours  are  best, 

He  sends  them  as  He  sees  it  meet ; 
When  thou  hast  borne  its  fiery  test, 

And  now  art  freed  from  all  deceit, 
He  comes  to  thee  all  unaware, 
And  makes  thee  o\vn  His  loving  care."  * 

Here  tlie  singer  stopped,  for  his  voice  trembled, 
and  the  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks.  The  little 
audience  stood  fixed  in  silent  sympathy :  but  at 
last  Mistress  Johannsen  could  contain  herself  no 
longer. 

"  Dear,  dear  sir,"  she  began,  drying  her  eyes  with 
her  apron,  for  there  was  not  a  dry  cheek  in  the 
crowd,  "  that  is  all  like  as  if  I  sat  in  the  church 
and  forgot  all  my  care,  and  thought  of  God  in 
heaven  and  Christ  upon  the  cross.  How  has  it  all 
come  about  1  You  w^ere  so  downcast  this  morning, 
and  now  you  make  my  heart  leap  with  joy.  Has 
God  been  helping  you  ? " 

"  Yes,  that  He  has,  my  dear  gracious  God  and 
Father  !  All  my  need  is  over.  Only  think  :  I  am 
secretary  to  the  Swedish  Ambassador  here  in  Ham- 
burg, have  a  hundred  crowns  a-year;  and  to  com- 
plete   my   happiness   he   gave   me   five-and-twenty 

*  From  the  admirable  translation  in  the  "Lyra  Germanica"  of 
the  well-known  *'  Wer  mu'  den  lieben  Gott  lasst  wolteu." 


153  GEORGE  NEUMABK. 

crowns  in  hand,  so  that  I  have  redeemed  my  poor 
viohn.  Is  not  the  Lord  our  God  a  wonderful  and 
gracious  God  ?  Yes,  yes,  my  good  people,  be  sure 
of  this, — 

*  "Who  trusts  in  God's  imcliaiiging  love, 
Builds  on  the  rock  that  nought  can  move.'  ** 

"  And  this  beautiful  hymn,  where  did  you  find  it, 
sir,  if  I  may  make  so  bold  ?  For  I  know  all  the 
hymn-book  by  heart,  but  not  this.  Did  you  make 
it  yourself  ? " 

"  I  ?  Well,  yes,  I  am  the  instrument — the  harp  ; 
but  God  swept  the  strings.  All  I  knew  was  this, 
'  Who  trusts  in  God's  unchanging  love  ;'  these  words 
lay  like  a  soft  burden  on  my  heart.  I  went  over 
them  again  and  again,  and  so  they  shaped  them- 
selves into  this  song.  How,  I  cannot  tell.  I  began 
to  sing  and  to  pray  for  joy,  and  my  soul  blessed 
the  Lord,  and  word  followed  word  like  water  from 
a  fountain.     Stop,"  he  cried,  "  listen  once  more  : — 

"  Nor  in  the  heat  of  pain  and  strife. 

Think  God  hath  cast  thee  off  unheard  ; 

Nor  that  the  man  whose  prosperous  life 
Thou  enviest,  is  of  Him  preferred  ; 

Time  passes  and  much  change  doth  bring, 

And  sets  a  bound  to  everything. 

*'  All  are  alike  before  His  face  ; 

'Tis  easy  to  our  God  Most  High 


GEORGE  NEUMABK.  153 

To  make  the  rich  man  poor  and  base, 

To  rjive  the  poor  man  wealth  and  joy. 
Trae  wonders  still  of  Him  are  wrought, 
Who  setteth  up  and  brings  to  nought. 

"  Sing,  pray,  and  swerve  not  from  His  ways, 

But  do  thine  own  part  faithfully  ; 
Trust  His  rich  promises  of  grace, 

So  shall  it  be  fulfilled  in  thee  ; 
God  never  yet  forsook  at  need 
The  soul  that  trusted  Him  indeed." 

When  he  ceased  for  the  second  time,  he  was  so 
much  moved  that  he  put  away  the  violoncello  in 
the  corner,  and  the  little  audience  quietly  dis- 
persed. 

Such  is  the  story  of  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of 
all  the  German  hymns,  one  of  those  which  has 
preached  the  truest  sermon  to  troubled  and  fretted 
and  despairing  hearts.  After  two  years,  Baron  von 
Eosenkranz  procured  his  secretary  the  post  of  Li- 
brarian of  the  Archives  at  Weimar,  and  there  he 
peacefully  died  in  his  sixty-first  year.  He  wrote 
much,  verses  indeed  almost  innumerable,  possibly 
to  be  read  at  Weimar  still  by  such  Dryasdusts  as 
care  to  look.  But  the  legacy  he  left  to  the  Church 
was  the  hymn  that  the  simple-hearted  man  played 
when  God  gave  him  back  his  beloved  "  Viola  di 
Gamba." 


MICHAEL  FENEBEEG  AND  HIS 
FEIENDS. 


N  the  year  1770,  two  young  men  met 
at  the  Jesuit  School  at  Landsberg  as 
novices  of  that  Order.  They  were  of  the 
same  age,  of  the  same  stamp  of  character,  both 
sprung  from  the  poor,  both  eager  students,  they 
lived  in  the  same  house,  and  became  fast  friends. 

Michael  Feneberg  was  born  in  February,  1751, 
at  Oberdorf  in  Bavaria.  The  son  of  peasant  parents, 
he  had  few  advantages  and  few  opportunities.  To 
his  parents'  discomfort  he  declared  he  must  be  a 
student.  They  had  strong  objections.  The  ''learned 
handicraft,"  as  the  country-folk  phrased  it,  was 
uncertain ;  every  other  handicraft  had  a  golden 
floor.      It  took  up  time,  moreover,   and  it   was  so 


FENEBERG  AND  HIS  FEIENDS.  155 

many  years  before  it  brought  in  any  return.  And 
then  it  cost  florins  upon  florins ;  and  at  the  bare 
thought  of  that  scandalous  waste,  all  to  make  a  man 
speak  Latin,  the  honest  couple  declared  against  the 
student.  A  fire,  which  left  them  nothing  but  their 
lives,  conspired  to  crush  the  boy's  hopes.  But  in 
some  way  it  happened  that  he  became  a  scholar; 
was  somewhat  stupid  at  his  first  school,  an  average 
pupil  at  the  second,  and  then  rose  to  be  first  of  his 
class. 

Michael  Sailer  was  born  in  November,  1751,  also 
in  Bavaria.  His  father  was  a  shoemaker,  and  a 
devout  man  in  his  way.  Of  his  mother  nothing  is 
known,  but  the  touching  picture  in  the  preface  to 
one  of  Sailer's  books,  written  forty  years  after  her 
death.  The  memory  of  the  slightest  detail  of  her 
life — the  glance  of  an  eye,  the  touch  of  a  hand, 
any  household  work — quickened  in  him  a  religious 
sense,  that  "  no  distance  of  time,  or  press  of  sorrows, 
or  even  sin  itself  could  weaken."  It  is  the  strong 
expression  of  a  profound  feeling  that  does  equal 
honour  to  mother  and  son.  The  village  schoolmaster 
taught  him  what  he  could,  and  the  chaplain  grounded 
him  in  Latin,  until,  what  with  his  own  application 
and  his  teacher's  enthusiasm,  it  was  plain  he  should 


156  FENEBEBa  AND  HIS  FBIENDS. 

go  to  college.  His  father  viewed  it  hopefully,  but 
always  with  this  conclusion  :  "  From  all  they  tell 
me  about  that  craft,  it  is  too  costly  for  us."  Rieger, 
the  carpenter,  was  of  another  opinion.  "I  am  as 
poor  as  you,"  he  would  say,  "and  my  son  is  a 
student  in  Munich.  As  for  life,  neighbour,  God 
gives  that,  and  good  men  give  the  rest."  It  was  a 
sanguine  view  of  the  world,  and  an  imperfect 
theology ;  but  it  so  far  impressed  the  shoemaker, 
that  when  Michael  was  ten  years  old,  his  father  took 
him  to  Munich.  Passing  a  gamekeeper's  on  the 
way,  Rieger  solemnly  adjured  his  neighbour  to  buy 
a  brace  of  snipe,  and  the  other  from  some  whim  or 
impulse  obeyed.  Anived  at  Munich,  the  snipe  and 
the  gracious  words  of  the  shoemaker  opened  the 
schoolmaster's  heart ;  young  Sailer  was  introduced 
to  a  wealthy  family,  became  companion  to  their  son, 
and  obtained  board  and  schooling  for  more  than  six 
years,  and  a  friendship  for  life.  He  used  to  go  back 
with  peculiar  pleasure  to  this  epoch.  When  his 
school-fellow,  long  after,  entertained  him  at  dinner, 
''  next  to  God  and  the  two  snipe,"  he  said,  I  owe  my 
entire  literary  existence  to  you."  For  the  snipe 
were  never  forgotten.  He  used  to  say  meditatively 
among  his  friends,  "  It  was  by  two  snipe  that  God 


FENEBEBG  AND  HIS  FBIENDS.  157 

made  me  what  I  am."  His  seal  was  two  snipe  with 
the  legend.  Under  God's  guiding.  And  when  the 
art-loving  King  of  Bavaria  raised  him  a  statue,  he 
ordered  two  snipe  to  be  carved  on  the  pedestal. 
In  due  time  the  snipe  also  led  him  to  Landsberg, — 
a  clever,  thoughtful,  hard-reading  student  of  nine- 
teen ;  and  at  Landsberg  the  two  peasants  met. 

Sailer  wrote  of  Landsberg  that  it  was  a  paradise. 
IS^otwithstanding,  in  1773,  it  was  suppressed,  with 
every  other  Jesuit  institution  in  the  country.  Pro- 
bably the  Government  had  no  adequate  notion  of  a 
paradise  of  Jesuits  ;  probably  the  student  saw  in 
his  teachers  only  kindly,  intellectual,  genial  men, 
and  cared  and  knew  little  of  a  world  outside  his 
books  ;  perhaps  there  is  some  truth  in  what  he  said 
afterwards  :  "  In  the  origin  of  their  Order  there 
was  much  that  was  divine  ;  in  its  sjDread  much  that 
was  human ;  in  its  suppression  much  that  was 
^  neither  human  nor  divine."  But,  being  suppressed, 
even  enthusiastic  pupils  submitted  to  the  new  order 
of  things ;  and  the  two  friends  went  to  study  canon 
law  at  Ingolstadt. 

Ten  years  have  passed,  and  we  catch  a  glimpse 
of  these  friends  again.  Sailer  is  professor  at  the 
University  of  Dillengen,  reading  lectures  on   pas- 


IS8  FENEBEBG  AND  HIS  FBIENDS. 

toral  and  po23ular  theology,  and  discoursing  on 
religion.  Feneberg  is  also  at  Dillengen,  professor 
at  the  g}^mnasium.  For  ten  years  more  the  gjmma- 
sium  prospers  ;  students  crowd  the  University  class- 
rooms ;  Dillengen  rises  into  note  ;  men  come  to  it 
from  remote  angles  of  the  kingdom,  and  even 
foreigners  matriculate ;  and  the  jDrofessors  work 
with  a  harmony  which  has  passed  into  a  proverb. 
There  is  some  power  and  attractiveness  growing 
silently  up  within  the  queer  little  cloistered  place ; 
something  that  is  not  in  the  established  routine ; 
some  independent  interest.  Rumours  spread  about 
the  teaching.  The  dogmatic  positions  of  the  church, 
it  is  said,  are  thrown  lightly  aside.  Christ  and 
Divine  love  are  spoken  of  more  than  the  canons, 
and  indeed  without  much  regard  to  canons.  Stu- 
dents return  home  quoting  Lavater  and  Stilling, 
and  dee])  in  the  writings  of  Fenelon  and  Tauler. 
They  even  profess  to  reverence  and  believe  the 
Bible,  against  the  free  assertions  of  the  philosophers. 
Dillengen  becomes  to  the  ex-Jesuits  ''  a  dangerous 
place ;"  they  warn  against  it ;  "a  young  man  may 
lose  his  faith  there."  Hints  are  thrown  out  that 
the  professors  belong  to  the  Illuminati ;  they  are 
called  mystics,  and  Jansenists,  and  Protestants  ;  the 


FENEBEEG  AND  HIS  FBIENDS.  159 

Illiiminati  themselves  league  against  them  ;  secret 
influences  are  brought  to  bear  upon  the  government ; 
Feneberg  is  removed  from  the  gymnasium,  and 
Sailer  and  his  friends  are  crushed  out  of  the 
University.  Feneberg  retired  to  the  vicarage  of 
Seeg ;  Sailer  wandered  to  Munich.  "  What  brings 
you  here  ? "  said  his  old  friend  Winkelhofer.  "  They 
have  dismissed  me."  "  Oh  !  Then  come  and  rest 
with  me.  My  room,  my  table,  my  bed,  my  goods, 
my  heart, — all  mine  is  thine." 

In  this  matter  the  sagacity  of  the  Jesuits  did  not 
play  them  false.  They  were  right  in  tracing  up 
to  Dillengen  "a  dangerous  tendency ;"  they  were 
right  in  fixing  on  the  two  friends  as  its  real  strength. 
Sailer  and  Feneberg  were  the  most  eminent  men  of 
the  place.  They  were  men  of  the  purest  and  sim- 
plest lives,  loving,  loveable,  and  blameless.  They 
had  rare  gifts  of  teaching  ;  they  loved  it  for  its  own 
sake.  When  Feneberg,  in  an  early  curacy,  found 
leisure  time  hanging  on  his  hands,  he  set  up  school 
in  his  house,  and  was,  he  says  himself,  "  head-master 
and  usher,  rector  magnificus,  bedell  house-father, 
and  often  housemaid ;"  he  composed  hymns,  and 
sung  them  with  his  pupils;  walked,  and  played 
gymnastics  with  them;   studied  them  and  studied 


i6o  FENEBERG  AND  HIS  FBIENDS, 

with  them.  It  was  his  pleasure,  his  hoHday.  One 
of  those  fifteen  pupils  has  written  how  his  master 
shrewdly  cured  him  of  ghost-fears,  bringing  him  up 
to  the  spectre  pretty  much  as  you  would  a  shying 
horse.  And  there  lingers  still  another  tradition  of 
cure,  quaint  if  not  graceful,  by  which  he  reconciled 
two  boys  who  would  not  speak,  setting  them  down 
to  their  porridge  with  but  one  spoon  between  them. 
Sailer,  also,  was  never  so  happy  as  in  the  professor's 
chair ;  and  one  of  the  best  books  he  wrote  was  on 
education.  He  knew  what  was  passing  in  young 
men's  minds  ;  the  vague  speculative  thoughts  that 
rise  up,  at  which  they  are  half  proud,  half  startled ; 
their  struggles  with  the  past  and  with  tradition  and 
with  all  beliefs,  through  which  they  often  pass  by 
fiery  ordeal.  By  his  gentle  wisdom  he  disarmed 
them  of  the  proud  sensitiveness  with  which  they 
cling  to  thoughts  that  oppose  them  to  the  rest  of 
the  world.  By  his  sympathy  he  deprived  them  of 
that  chivalrous  despair  that  has  sometimes  forced 
a  man  on  into  positive  scepticism,  because  every 
man's  hand  was  against  him.  His  frankness,  mild- 
ness, purity,  won  them  rapidly  over  to  his  confidence; 
and  men  of  the  wildest  natures,  restless,  lawless, 
defiant  minds,  were  often  noticed  to  yield  to  him 


FENEBERG  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.  i6i 

after  a  single  interview.  And  the  two  men  were 
not  only  gifted  with  singular  power  over  others,  but 
were  in  the  best  position  to  use  it.  The  High 
School  was  the  feeder  of  the  University;  and  the 
boys  who  were  for  years  under  Feneberg,  went  with 
minds  ready,  softened  and  plastic,  to  be  moulded 
into  men  under  Sailer.  The  one  prepared  the  way 
for  the  other,  and  the  tendency  of  both  was  the 
same. 

Before  Feneberg  was  long  at  Seeg  he  had  won  the 
hearts  of  his  people  ;  and,  successful  as  he  was  in 
the  High  School,  perhaps  the  pastorate  was  his  pro- 
per sphere.  One  winter  evening,  however,  as  he 
was  returning  from  preaching  on  the  patience  of  the 
saints,  his  horse  fell  on  the  slippery  forest  path,  and 
Feneberg's  leg  was  broken.  A  clumsy  country  doctor 
tried  to  set  it ;  two  stout  peasants  were  ordered  to 
push  the  bone  into  its  place.  A  surgeon  came  at 
last,  and,  after  tedious  waiting,  amputation  became 
necessary.  "The  Lord  hath  visited  me!"  was  his 
simple  exclamation  when  his  leg  was  broken.  When 
they  told  him  of  the  surgical  decision  his  prayer  was 
as  simple : — "  Lord  !  Thou  givest  faith,  but  mine  is 
very  weak,  even  as  this  foot.  Yea,  it  is  Thou  who 
plantest  faith,  and  causeth  it   to  grow.     Give   me 


i62  FENEBEEG  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

faith.  Nature  would  willingly  keep  the  limb ;  but 
not  my  will,  Thine  be  done."  The  leg  was  taken 
off  and  buried ;  a  wooden  one  supplied  its  place ; 
and  henceforth  Feneberg  signed  his  letters,  "the 
one-legged  vicar,"  or — for  no  other  word  comes  so 
near  the  strong  idiom — timber-toes.  There  was  a 
deep  humour  in  the  man,  that  came  out,  as  it  usually 
does  with  quiet  natures,  in  his  misfortune.  "Dear 
heart,"  he  would  exclaim,  "  I  used  to  be  melancholy 
when  I  had  two  feet.  I  can  say  now,  a  broken  leg 
is  good  medicine."  And  many  a  hymn  of  Claudius, 
and  other  favourite  poets,  made  the  sick-room  cheery. 
"  Happily,"  he  wrote  to  Sailer,  "  the  nag  was  a  neigh- 
bour's ;  so  the  credit  of  Tny  old  nag  is  saved."  Weber 
in  Dillengen  used  to  say,  that  having  been  nearly 
drowned  he  had  got  a  new  idea;  and  Feneberg 
chuckled  over  that  meditative  professor  that  the 
wooden  leg  gave  him  new  ideas  every  day.  He 
used  to  boast  of  its  uses  : — "  There  is  the  economical, 
for  I  only  need  one  stocking  and  one  shoe  ;  there  is 
the  social,  for  I  need  go  no  more  to  court,  for  which 
nature  never  meant  me  ;  there  is  the  religious,"  and 
so  on,  counting  them  up  upon  his  fingers  as  he  lay 
wearily  upon  the  sofa.  As  he  got  better,  and  his 
trusty  chaplain,   Bayr,  would  take  the  crutches  to 


FENEBERG  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.  163 

show  how  easily  one  might  walk  with  them  after  all, 
— "  Ay,  ay,"  he  would  laugh,  "  if  you  have  two  sound 
legs,  and  go  on  a  pair  of  crutches  besides,  no  doubt 
you  will  go  bravely."  Nor  even  when  the  leg  was 
buried  had  it  performed  all  its  functions.  It  was 
dug  up  some  years  after,  and  placed  on  the  study- 
table,  and  honoured  with  an  inscription.  "  Has  not 
the  Apostle  said,"  he  once  appealed  to  an  angry 
married  couple,  "  that  '  a  man  will  no  more  hate  his 
own  wife  than  his  own  flesh  ? '  Why,  there  is  my 
leg,  a  dead  bone,  and  yet  I  love  it  still,  for  it  is  part 
of  my  body.  And  you  would  hate  each  other ! 
That  leg  will  plead  against  you  at  the  last  day ! " 
"Perhaps,"  he  addressed  the  soldiers  as  they  were 
marching  to  the  wars,  "  you  may  have  a  leg  shot  off 
in  battle.  What  matter  ?  Don't  you  see  by  me 
that  you  can  get  on  in  the  world  with  a  wooden 
one?" 

But  the  lesson  he  was  learning  most  was  this : 
"  Oh,  that  I  could  draw  nearer  to  thee,  Lord,  and  I 
would  cheerfully  give  thee  not  one  foot  but  two  ; 
yea,  my  hands  and  my  head  ! "  Up  till  this  time  he 
had  been  drawing  hionself  nearer  by  self-denial, 
patience,  diligence,  devotional  thoughts.  His  know- 
ledge of  the  truth  was  more  outward  than  inward, 

M  2 


i64  FENEBERG  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

what  it  should  be  and  not  what  it  really  was  in 
himself;  his  relation  to  Christ  was  still  legal,  and  he 
had  but  the  dullest  sense,  and  that  only  at  times,  of 
justification  by  faith ;  even  the  Bible,  he  complained, 
Avas  to  him  a  book  sealed  with  seven  seals.  The 
complaint  ceased  before  his  illness  left.  Instead  of 
dead  letters,  the  words  came  to  him  like  a  living 
and  searching  spirit.  But  in  proportion  as  he  felt 
that,  he  felt  as  if  he  were  drawn  away  from  Christ. 
Sin  became  to  him  an  awful  teiTor  and  guilt ;  it 
started  up  among  the  purest  thoughts  of  his  life  ;  it 
fronted  him  at  every  memory  ;  it  spoiled  his  virtues. 
And  this  feeling,  startling  to  himself  and  growing  in 
intensity,  threw  a  darkness  over  his  life.  He  was 
restless  and  peaceless,  and  day  and  night  he  poured 
out  through  his  tears  one  cry,  Lord,  save  rne,  I 
perish ! 

Meanwhile,  Sailer  was  passing  through  much  the 
same  struggle,  but  with  less  of  spiritual  intensity. 
From  his  boyhood,  his  devotional  habit  and  his 
intellect  had  been  at  war.  At  Landsberg,  at  Ingol- 
stadt,  at  Dillengen,  he  had  been  a  doubter.  Under 
the  strong  calm  exterior,  the  wise  and  patient 
words,  the  brilliant  and  eager  lecturer,  there  lay  at 
times  unspeakable  anguish,  that  tenible  anguish  to 


FENEBEBG  AND  HIS  FEIENDS.  165 

a  devout  temper  of  intellectual  scepticism.  "  You 
believe  in  Christ,  because  the  apostles  declare  him," 
it  whispered  once  ;  "  but  what  if  the  apostles  were 
deceived  and  deceiving  ? "  He  opened  his  mind  to 
an  Indian  missionary.  Father  Pfab  talked  with  him 
for  hours  about  his  travels,  and  the  country,  and  the 
people.  After  some  days,  he  asked,  "  Can  you 
believe  what  I  have  said  ?  Do  you  think  it  is 
true?"  "I  do  not  doubt  it  for  a  moment."  "But 
I  might  have  deceived  you."  "  But  a  man  who  left 
his  country  for  the  sake  of  the  Gospel  will  not  lie, 
and  he  will  not  deceive."  "  And  you  believe  that  of 
me,  and  not  of  the  apostles  ! "  It  struck  home,  and 
Pfab  urged  it  with  great  skill  and  power.  Yet,  what 
could  it  do  beyond  what  it  did,  bring  Sailer  to  his 
knees  for  a  little,  crying  out,  3Iy  Lord !  my  God ! 
Intellectual  doubt  goes  deeper  down  than  the  intel- 
lect; nor  will  intellectual  clearness  cast  it  out. 
Unless  the  heart  be  settled  in  Christ,  the  intellect 
may  go  on  doubting  for  ever.  Unless  the  spiritual 
atmosphere  be  clear,  it  matters  little  what  is  the 
character  of  the  intellectual.  It  is  that  spiritual 
kingdom  that  gives  laws  to  all  the  rest ;  they  depend 
upon  it,  not  it  upon  them.  And  as  long  as  a  man's 
spiritual  relations  are  uncertain,  he  is  liable  to  be 


i66  FENEBERG  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

tormented  by  the  cruellest,  and  what  perhaps  his 
reason  would  call  the  foolishest  doubts.  Sailer  was 
pacified  for  a  little.  But  fresh  agony  returned; 
fresh  and  ugly  questions  leapt  up  in  his  soul ;  they 
came  to  him  in  silence  and  the  night ;  they  haunted 
him  in  dreams  ; — behind  that  face  from  which  so 
many  took  courage,  and  those  clear,  earnest  words 
that  throbbed  in  the  hearts  of  his  scholars,  what 
darkness  and  misery  ! — a  death's-head,  how  cun- 
ningly concealed !  Nor  is  Sailer  the  first  to  w^ear 
the  mask,  nor  does  he  carry  it  more  bravely  than 
another.  Behind,  what  quiet  placid  looks,  what 
courteous  and  kindly  ways,  what  thought  and 
affection  for  others,  what  firm  show  of  energy, 
what  busy  or  vacant  or  smiling  face, — ^the  agony 
of  the  soul  may  be  acted  out  as  a  mere  every-day 
matter,  the  battle  of  life  and  death  raging  within, 
while  the  man  is  counselling  a  neighbour,  or  the 
woman  spinning  at  her  wheel. 

Now,  at  this  time,  Sailer  was  more  than  com- 
monly agitated  by  the  tidings  of  a  sudden  move- 
ment in  a  distant  parish ;  a  movement  of  a  pro- 
foundly spiritual  character,  that  was  getting  talked 
about  with  great  warmth  and  suspicion;  but  that 
he  felt  concerned  himself,  and  his  deepest  and  still 


FENEBERG  AND  EIS  FBIENDS.  167 

unsatisfied  want,  and  in  which  he  was  an  uncon- 
scious agent. 

Among  the  students  at  Dillengen,  there  had  been 
one  too  noticeable  to  be  forgotten.  Martin  Boos 
had  been  dropped  into  the  world  apparently  by  mis- 
take. He  was  the  fourteenth  child  of  a  small  farmer 
— a  "  Christmas-child,"  yet  born  in  so  cold  a  night, 
that  the  water  in  the  room  froze.  An  orphan  at 
four,  his  eldest  sister's  first  thought  was  how  to  dis- 
pose of  him  with  due  regard  to  economy.  Being  a 
sturdy  girl,  she  set  him  on  her  shoulders  and  started 
for  Augsburg  ;  but,  getting  tired,  she  flung  him  into 
a  corn-field  by  the  way,  where  he  soon  cried  himself 
asleep.  However,  in  the  afternoon  she  returned, 
laid  him  at  an  uncle's  door  in  the  city,  and  went  her 
way.  The  lonely  child  managed  to  grow  up  in  some 
fashion  in  this  surly  uncle's  house,  saved  himself  by 
his  scholarship  from  becoming  a  shoemaker,  and 
went  to  Dillengen,  where  a  brilliant,  handsome 
student,  he  carried  off  the  first  honours.  Sailer's 
teaching  had  more  influence  than  he  knew.  And 
when  his  uncle  had  celebrated  his  first  mass  by 
giving  a  three  days'  shooting-party,  he  thankfully 
subsided  into  a  quiet  parish  priest,  cultivating,  in 
thorough  B-omish  fashion,  holy  affections,  and  yearn- 


i68  FENEBERG  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

ing  after  that  calm,,  mystic  relation  to  Christ  that 
had  been  pointed  out  in  the  lectures.  "  I  lay,"  he 
says,  ''for  years  together  upon  the  cold  ground, 
though  my  bed  stood  near  me.  I  scourged  myself 
till  the  blood  came,  and  clothed  my  body  with  a 
hair-shirt;  I  hungered,  and  gave  my  bread  to  the 
poor  ;  I  spent  every  leisure  moment  in  the  precincts 
of  the  church  ;  I  confessed  and  communicated  every 
week."  He  "gave  himself  an  immense  deal  of 
trouble  to  lead  a  holy  life,"  and  was  unanimously 
elected  a  saint  ;  but  the  saint  was  miserable,  and 
cried  out,  0  luretcJied  Qnan  that  I  am  /  who  shall 
deliver  me  ?  Going  to  see  a  pious  old  woman  on 
her  deathbed,  he  said  wistfully,  "  Ah  !  you  may  well 
die  in  peace  ! "  "  Why  ? "  "  You  have  lived,  such  a 
godly  life."  "  What  a  miserable  comforter  !  "  she 
said,  and  smiled ;  "  if  Christ  had  not  died  for  me,  I 
should  have  perished  for  ever,  with  all  my  good 
works  and  piety.  Trusting  in  Him,  I  die  at  peace." 
And  from  this  time  the  light  fell  in  upon  his  soul ; 
the  dying  woman  had  answered  his  miserable  cry. 
He  stayed  some  months  with  Feneberg,  at  Seeg,  as 
voluntary  chaplain ;  with  Sailer,  was  one  of  those 
who  accompanied  the  good  man  on  the  first  Sunday 
he  went  out  with  his  wooden  leg ;  then  received  a 


FENEBEBG  AND  BIS  FRIENDS.  169 

curacy  at  Wiggensback,  near  Kempten,  and  began 
preaching  Christ.  "  Flames  of  fire  darted  from  his 
lips,  and  the  hearts  of  the  people  bm-ned  like  straw." 
He  declared  their  sins,  and  when  they  cried,  "What 
shall  we  do  ? "  he  gave  them  no  answer  ;  "  repent  ? " 
no  answer;  "  confess  r'  no  answer;  "good  works?" 
no  answer ;  until  the  question  was  driven  deep  into 
their  souls,  and  then  they  knew  how  vain  was  any 
answer  but  one — Christ 

Moreover  he  had  a  terse,  original  way  of  putting 
things,  and  a  power  of  homely,  some  may  think  too 
homely  illustration.  One  or  two  examples  may  be 
given  at  hazard.  "  They  are  dearer  to  God  that  seek 
something  from  him  than  they  that  seek  to  bring 
something  to  him."  "He  that  says  he  is  pious  is 
certainly  not."  "The  most  read  their  Bibles  like 
cows  that  stand  in  the  thick  grass,  and  trample  the 
finest  flowers  and  herbs."  "  People  think  it  a  weak- 
ness to  forgive  an  insult.  -Then  God  would  be  the 
weakest  in  heaven  and  on  earth,  for  no  one  in  heaven 
or  on  earth  forgives  so  much  as  he."  "  Death  strips 
us  of  this  world's  glory,  as  a  boot-jack  draws  off  your 
boots.  Another  wears  my  boots  when  I  am  dead, 
and  another  wears  my  glory.  It  is  of  little  value." 
"  The  most  learned  declare  they  knov^^  nothing,  and 


I70  FENEBEEG  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

the  most  pious  that  they  have  nothing;  therefore 
the  profoundest  learning  is  in  knowing  nothing,  and 
the  profoundest  sanctity  in  having  nothing."  "A 
gentleman  passed  through  to-day,  and  the  people 
said,  ^  He  wore  the  cross  of  St.  Theresa ;  he  must  be 
some  great  man.'  A  cross  was  once  a  disgrace.  Now, 
the  larger  the  cross,  the  greater  the  man." 

A  preacher  of  this  stamp  would  make  himself  be 
heard  anjHrvhere ;  and  it  is  little  wonder  that  great 
excitement  gathered  about  the  little  country  chapel 
in  Bavaria.  Many  found  the  Saviour  when  he 
preached;  persons  came  long  journeys  to  hear  so 
strange  and  blessed  a  doctrine ;  and  the  chapel  was 
thronged  with  men  and  women  who  had  gone  about 
anxious,  heavy  laden,  and  hopeless  for  years.  Fene- 
berg  heard  of  it,  longed  for  more  than  he  had  yet 
found,  and  wrote  that  he  was  like  Zaccheus,  waiting 
in  the  tree  till  Christ  should  pass  by.  "  Then  wait 
quietly  in  the  tree,"  Boos  wrote  back ;  "  Christ  will 
soon  enter  thy  house  and  thj  heart."  This  was  in 
the  autumn  of  1796,  when  Feneberg  was  bitterly 
crying  for  light.  In  December,  Sailer  came  to  him 
on  a  visit,  much  disturbed  by  the  news  from 
Kempten.  "  Let  us  send  for  Boos,  and  hear  it  from 
himself/'  he  said.      Boos  came,   and  brought  with 


FENEBEBG  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.  171 

him  some  of  the  awakened  to  speak  to  their  own 
experience. 

According  to  one  of  Feneberg's  poems,  his  vicar- 
age was 

*'  Lean  and  ngly,  all  decaying, 
And  a  haunt  of  loneliness  ;" 

but  it  received  the  guests  genially,  and  a  more 
singular  Christmas  party  has  seldom  met.  There 
was  the  vicar  himself,  with  his  two  curates,  Bayr 
and  Siller;  Sailer,  Boos,  and  the  converts — five 
Eomish  ecclesiastics,  met  to  hear  about  an  evan- 
gelical revival,  begun  by  the  evangelical  preaching 
of  one  of  their  number.  A  peasant  girl  from  Boos' 
parish  whispered  him,  almost  as  soon  as  she  saw  his 
old  professor,  "  That  man  has  much  that  is  childlike, 
and  a  good  heart,  but  he  is  still  a  Scribe  and  a 
Pharisee,  and  must  be  born  again  of  the  Spirit." 
Boos  was  startled,  and  assured  her  she  must  be  mis- 
taken. But  before  the  evening  was  over,  she  said 
openly  before  them  all,  "  Sir,  you  have  the  baptism 
of  John,  but  not  the  baptism  of  the  Spirit  and  of 
fire ;  you  have  drunk  out  of  the  river  of  grace,  but 
not  yet  plunged  into  the  sea.  You  are  like  Cor- 
nelius, and  have  done  and  suffered  much  for  the 
truth,  but  you  have  not  yet  received  Christ."     There 


172  FENEBERG  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

was  an  awkward  pause ;  no  one  knew  well  what  to 
say.  But  finding  Sailer  silent,  Boos  himself  urged 
the  truth  with  great  earnestness.  Sailer,  still  silent 
and  much  disconcerted,  withdrew.  He  had  left  the 
next  morning  before  the  house  was  astir,  but  one  of 
the  peasants  said  he  had  met  him,  and  had  repeated 
out  of  John,  He  caone  unto  his  own,  and  his  own 
received  Him  not ;  hut  as  many  as  received  Him, 
to  them  gave  He  power  to  become  the  sons  of  God; 
and  that  he  had  replied,  "  Good,  good ; "  but  his  face 
was  troubled,  and  he  rode  away.  They  blamed 
themselves,  fearing  they  had  offended  him,  and  the 
woman  wept ;  but  presently  she  lifted  up  her  eyes, 
and  said  joyfully,  "  Be  comforted  :  grace  has  met  him 
on  his  way.  God  works  wonders  with  him.  The 
Lord  will  appear  to  his  heart."  She  had  scarcely 
spoken,  when  a  messenger  came  to  the  door  with 
some  lines  written  by  their  friend  on  horseback. 
"  Dearest  brethren,"  they  ran,  "  God  has  given  me 
an  unspeakably  quiet  mind.  I  do  not  doubt  that  He 
has  come  to  me  in  soft  whispers  ;  yea,  is  already  in 
me.  I  believe  that  John  baptizes  with  water,  but 
Christ  with  the  Spirit.  Pray,  brethren,  that  we  may 
not  fall  into  temptation.  The  rest  we  will  give  over 
to  God.     Farewell"     "  Blessed  be  God  ! "  exclaimed 


FENEBEBG  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.  173 

the  vicar,  who  had  never  ceased  to  pray,  Lord,  if 
thou  wilt  come  to  us,  come  first  of  all  to  him. 
Before  the  Christmas  party  broke  up,  Feneberg  was 
also  filled  with  joy,  and  Bayr  and  Siller  received 
Christ. 

Boos  returned  to  Wiggensbach.  This  awakening 
spread  more  widely  than  ever ;  and  on  new  year's 
day,  1797,  a  hot  persecution  broke  out  on  every  side. 
The  ''  Jesus  preachers,"  as  they  were  called,  were 
hunted  from  their  cures;  the  converts  were 
mocked,  stoned,  imprisoned,  thrust  out  of  their 
homes.  Boos  himself  was  obhged  to  flee,  and  found 
refuge  with  Feneberg,  but  a  decree  of  the  Inquisi- 
tion was  issued  against  them,  the  vicarage  was 
ransacked  in  their  absence,  all  their  papers  were 
taken,  and  they  themselves  brought  up  in  custody. 

One  of  Feneberg's  answers  throws  some  light  on 
his  position.  ''  Do  you  know  why  you  have  been 
cited  here  ? "  "  Yes.  Jesus  Christ,  our  Lord  and 
Saviour,  has  fulfilled  to  me,  a  poor  sinner,  and  more 
than  a  hundred  others,  His  precious  word  that  He 
spoke  at  the  Last  Supper :  He  that  loveth  me  shall 
he  loved  of  My  Father,  and  I  will  love  him,  and 
will  manifest  Myself  to  him!'  Union  with  Christ 
had    been    always    his    dream,    but    till    now    he 


174  FENEBERG  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

had  never  known  the  way.  Union  with  Christ 
from  this  time  became  the  distinguishing  feature 
of  his  preaching  and  spiritual  history.  Christ  for 
us,  and  Christ  in  us,  were  the  leading  points  of 
Boos'  doctrine,  and  of  the  movement  that  began 
with  him.  With  Feneberg  the  Christ  fbr  us  sinks 
somewhat  out  of  sight ;  his  stress  and  happiness  are 
laid  upon  the  presence  of  Christ  in  the  heart ;  this 
communion,  often  mystically  and  dimly  expressed, 
and  perhaps  at  the  best  somewhat  mystically  seen, 
expresses  the  rest  of  his  quiet  life,  and  explains 
his  contentedness  with  his  Church.  Keleased  from 
his  persecutions,  and  placed  at  Vohringen,  he  con- 
tinued his  faithful  ministrations,  edified  his  friends, 
prayed  daily  for  divine  light  and  knowledge,  and 
died  peacefully  at  sixty-one.  The  continued  sus- 
picion and  malice  that  followed  him  did  not  seem 
to  touch  his  calmness  of  communion;  blindness 
threatened  him,  and  passed  away ;  his  friends  were 
true.  It  was  a  gentle,  simple  life  ;  a  fresh,  pure, 
innocent  nature.  Nathanael  he  was  called  ;  he 
was  frank  and  righteous,  unable  to  utter  a  compli- 
ment or  hide  the  truth  ;  a  man  of  great  confidence 
and  childlikeness  before  God.  "  If  I  could  not 
caU  Thee,  Thou!'  he  was  once  heard   to  pray,  "  0 


FENEBERG  AND  HIS  FFdENDS.  175 

Father,  we  could  never  get  on."  "  It  is  a  fine 
thing/'  wrote  Sailer,  "  if  you  can  say  a  man  lived 
and  never  lifted  up  a  stone  against  his  neighbour ; 
but  it  is  finer  far  if  you  can  say  also,  he  took 
the  stones  out  of  the  path,  that  would  have  caught 
his  neighbour's  feet.  So  did  Feneberg,  and  this  his 
doing  was  his  life." 

Boos  was  driven  from  place  to  place.  Through 
the  best  part  of  his  life  he  may  be  recognised  in 
swift  and  anxious  and  perilous  flight.  At  last,  at 
Gallneukirchen,  in  Austria,  he  seemed  to  be  set- 
tled ;  the  scenes  of  Wiggensbach  were  repeated  on 
a  larger  scale ;  and  this  time  he  was  accused  at 
Vienna.  "  Dear  children,"  said  the  Emperor  to 
the  peasants  who  crowded  round  him  on  his  way 
through  the  parish,  "  your  pastor  is  no  teacher  of 
error."  It  was  the  impulsive  testimony  of  a  man 
who  had  a  finer  spirit  than  his  counsellors,  but  it 
did  not  avail ;  and  Boos  had  to  leave  the  Austrian 
shelter,  and  commence  his  wandering  anew.  In 
181 7,  the  Prussian  Government  appointed  him 
Professor  in  the  gymnasium  at  Diisseldorf;  but  it 
was  not  his  gift  to  teach,  and  they  exchanged  it 
for  the  living  of  Sayn  on  the  Khine.  He  lived 
for    some   years    unmolested   in    this   retired    and 


176  FENEBEEG  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

lonely  spot,  visited  by  many  friends,  writing  noble 
letters,  guiding  and  inspiring  the  movement  in 
his  own  country,  and  seeing  more  clearly  the 
breadth  and  grandeur  and  all-important  necessity 
of  the  truths  for  which  he  suffered.  He  lamented 
the  unfruitfulness  of  his  ministry.  "  There  is 
scarcely  a  spot  on  these  hills  where  I  have  not 
flung  myself  down  and  wept,  and  prayed  that  the 
Lord  would  give  me  again  the  grace  to  open  my 
mouth  with  joy,  and  to  preach  His  word  to  the 
awakening  of  the  heart."  This  also  was  given  him, 
and  in.  1825  he  died. 

Sailer  lived  the  longest,  and  alone  reached  to 
any  honour.  The  persecution  fell  lightest  upon 
him.  From  1802  till  1821  he  was  professor  at 
Landshut  and  Munich.  Besides  his  old  subject,  he 
lectured  on  morals  and  homiletics ;  on  liturgies,  cate- 
chising, and  education  ;  he  had  a  class  for  the  study 
of  the  Bible,  and  was  university  preacher.  It  was 
the  most  brilliant  period  of  his  life.  Students  came 
from  every  part  of  Germany,  and  his  fame  was  car- 
ried back  by  them  to  their  own  lands  ;  he  was  called 
to  one  university  after  another,  and  at  last  to  be 
archbishop  of  Cologne.  But  he  refused  every  offer 
that  would  lead  him  out  of  his  native  country,  while 


FENEBJERa  AND  HIS  FBIENDS.  177 

it  was  just  there  that  hostile  influences  were  used 
against  him  in  the  most  opposite  ways.  He  could 
be  identified  with  no  party,  and  was  hated  by  each. 
Napoleon  prevented  his  promotion  at  one  time 
by  assuring  the  King  he  was  a  mere  hanger-on 
to  the  Roman  Court ;  the  Pope  refused  it  at  ano- 
ther, because  he  suspected  his  attachment  to  the 
Church.  At  last  he  was  appointed  Bishop  in  par- 
tibus,  and  died  in  1832,  as  Bishop  of  Regensburg. 

His  character  was  of  the  same  class  as  Feneberg's, 
but  it  exchanged  much  of  his  childlike  spirit  for 
shrewdness.  He  was  one  of  the  mildest  and  most 
tolerant  of  men,  mild  to  excess.  It  is  told  that  hav- 
ing preached  one  morning  near  Saltzburg,  the  parish 
clergyman  rose  up,  and  said  he  would  preach  himself 
in  the  afternoon,  as  Sailer  had  made  the  doors  of 
heaven  too  wide.  "  You  are  excellent  at  bandages," 
said  one  of  his  friends,  "  but  a  bad  operator." 
"  Very  possible,"  he  replied :  "  in  my  life  I  have 
seen  more  wounds  healed  by  a  good  bandage  than 
by  the  knife."  He  was  humble,  patient,  easy  of 
access,  sweet  tempered  under  every  trial,  and  a  tried 
friend.  His  religious  views  wanted  the  fervour  of 
Feneberg's,  and  the  depth  of  Boos'.  He  never 
thoroughly  understood  the  first  of  the  two  proposi- 

N 


178  FENEBERG  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

tions,  Christ  for  us,  but  took  it  up  in  some  purely 
mystical  sense.  His  unrest  returned  after  the 
Christmas  of  '96.  Often  twelve  times  in  the  day  he 
withdrew  to  give  himself  up  to  God,  crying,  "  Lord, 
I  will  not  let  thee  go,  until  Thou  bless  me."  Doubts 
hithei-to  unknown  swept  over  him  and  crushed  his 
spirit.  He  found  an  answer  on  which  he  relied  to 
the  end,  yet  it  would  not  have  satisfied  his  friends. 
He  was  to  look  into  his  heart,  and  see  if  the  thought 
of  God  pleased  him  more  than  any  other.  It  was  a 
poor,  uncertain  tenure  of  peace  ;  it  was  the  Catholic 
doctrine  still.  A  feeling  that  he  must  do  something, 
give  something,  bring  something,  be  something,  ran 
through  his  theology,  and  weakened  it.  And  as  he 
grew  older  he  seemed  to  turn  more  to  the  Church, 
abjured  "  all  pseudo-mysticism,"  submitted  himself 
"  with  filial  piety  "  to  Rome,  and  apologised  for  any 
inadvertent  error,  anything  inconsistent  with  Romish 
teaching.  Yet  his  testimony  to  Boos  remains  on  the 
other  side.  "  Boos  is  a  spiritual.  Catholic  Christian. 
I  would  rather  die  than  condemn  a  man  possessed  of 
so  many  extraordinary  spiritual  gifts,  and  who  has 
led  so  many  thousands  to  repentance  and  faith,  for 
the  sake  of  a  few  expressions,  which,  after  all,  are 
susceptible  of  an  orthodox  meaning.     I  am  now  in 


FENEBERG  AND  HIS  FRIENDS.  179 

my  sixtieth  year,  and  I  would  tremble  to  appear 
before  the  judgment-seat  of  God  if  I  did  not  loudly 
confess  before  my  death  that  this  great  work  of  the 
pious  Boos  is  of  God." 

There  are  points  of  great  importance  at  which  the 
limits  of  such  a  paper  forbid  even  a  glance.  The 
narrative  of  the  conversions  is  profoundly  interest- 
ing, rich  in  every  variety  of  spiritual  incident.  The 
persecutions — on  so  large  a  scale  that  twenty-four 
priests  were  at  one  time  involved  in  them,  and  a 
minister  of  state  led  the  assault — are  not  without 
a  sad  and  tragic  interest.  The  awakening  presents 
features  of  striking  resemblance,  even  in  remarkable 
psychological  facts,  to  the  recent  revivals  in  Great 
Britain  and  America.  As  for  the  entire  movement, 
it  may  be  asked,  what  became  of  it  ?  Was  there  any 
permanent  influence  ?  Beyond  the  time,  it  would 
seem  scarcely  any.  Hundreds  of  the  clergy  must 
have  come  under  Sailer  s  influence,  but  he  founded 
no  school  of  religious  thought ;  and  the  explanation 
will  probably  be  found  in  this,  that  his  religious 
views  wanted  distinctness,  that  the  power  he  wielded 
was  one  of  personal  character.  He  met,  indeed,  a 
wild  young  lad  at  dinner  at  a  friend's  house ;  in  an 
hour's  conversation    the   youth   became   quiet   and 

N  2 


i8o  FENEBERG  AND  HIS  FBIENDS. 

thoughtful,  soon  after  he  studied  for  the  Church, 
and  died  recently  as  Archbishop  of  Breslau.  In 
Melchior  Diepenbrok,  Sailer's  influence  seems  to 
have  exhausted  itself — a  kind  of  genial,  tolerant  pre- 
late, like  the  well-known  J.  K.  L.,  but  without  even 
Sailer's  pietism.  At  Feneberg's  table  also  there  sat 
a  young  priest  who  bore  a  name  honoured  now  in 
Protestant  Germany  and  in  far  mission  fields,  the 
only  one  of  the  party  that  left  the  Romish  com- 
munion, the  venerable  Gossner.  These  two  bring 
down  the  links  into  our  own  generation,  and  there 
seems  no  further  link  to  carry  on  the  chain.  Yet, 
if  the  story  of  many  hearts  in  Bavaria  were  known, 
it  might  be  found  that  there  is  still  a  spiritual  seed 
there,  that  the  light  still  shines  in  dark  places,  and 
men  and  women  are  walking  by  faith  in  the  blessed 
words.  Believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou 
shalt  he  saved. 


JOHN    HUSS. 


[OUSANDS  of  people  pass  every  day  be- 
tween the  grey  files  of  statues  on  the  old 
bridge  of  Prague  without  much  noticing 
those  rude  wind-beaten  saints  and  heroes.  Nor,  in- 
deed, is  there  much  to  notice  save  where,  about  the 
centre,  a  figure,  habited  as  a  canon  of  St.  Augustine, 
stretches  out  one  hand  in  placid  benediction  over  the 
hurrying  human  river  above  and  the  calm  flow  of  the 
Moldau  beneath.  In  the  other  hand  there  is  a  cross, 
and  when  the  sun  shines  five  stars  of  gilt  bronze 
make  a  fair  aureole  overhead ;  and  at  his  feet  lie 
wreaths  of  fresh  flowers  and  bays  and  pots  of  rose- 
mary, the  offerings  of  the  maidens  of  Prague,  who 

' '  Into  this  well  throw  rosemaries, 
And  fragrant  violets  and  paunces  trime." 


1 82  JOSN  BUSS. 

And  to  the  stranger  curious  about  such  matters  all 

Prague  is  ready  to  answer,  with  one  voice,  that  this 
aureoled,  wind-beaten  saint,  is  St.  John  of  Nepomuk, 
patron  of  all  true  lovers  and  their  secrets,  and 
therefore  worthy  of  perpetual  garlands ;  guardian, 
moreover,  of  silence  and  discretion,  and  therefore 
painted  with  his  finger — or  in  quaint  old  German 
prints,  with  padlock,  as  surer  than  the  mobile  fiuger 
— on  his  lips ;  tutelar  god  of  rivers  and  bridges, 
sender  of  rain  and  dew,  and  national  saint  of  Bo- 
hemia. Nay,  he  reigns  beyond  Bohemia,  and  over 
more  statues  than  any  other  saint,  is  painted  in 
Italian  churches,  and  sung  in  Spanish  heroics.  "  I 
lived,"  says  Mr.  Jamieson,  "for  some  weeks  under 
the  protection  of  this  patron  saint  and  Proto- 
viartyr  of  the  Seal  of  Silence,  at  the  little  village  of 
Traunkirchen  (by  the  Gmunden-See,  in  the  Tyrol), 
where  his  effigy  stood  in  my  garden,  the  hand 
extended  in  benediction  over  the  waters  of  that 
beautiful  lake.  In  great  storms  I  have  seen  the 
lightning  play  round  his  head  till  the  metal  stars 
became  a  real  fiery  nimbus — beautiful  to  behold  !  " 
And  yet  this  wonderful,  beautiful,  bountiful,  na- 
tional saint  turns  out  to  be  an  imposition,  a  myth, 
a  two-centuries'  mistake,   and  is   not   St.  John   of 


JOHN  HU8S.  183 

Nepomuk  at  all,  but  plain  saintly  John  Huss,  Proto- 
TYiartyr  of  the  Reformation — John  Huss,  with  a 
dim  background  of  the  old  Sclavonic  heathenism. 

But  that  is  impossible,  say  the  men  of  Prague ; 
for  John  of  Nepomuk  was  a  living  man,  and  no 
myth :  and  was  not  this  statue  raised  on  the  very 
spot  where  he  was  flung  into  the  river  by  that  King 
Wenceslaus,  whose  father  had  built  the  bridge  five- 
and-twenty  years  before;  and  have  we  not  that 
precious  silver  shrine  that  covers  his  tomb  in  our 
cathedral,  and  his  own  body  resting  quietly  among 
us,  as  was  discovered  to  all  and  proved  by  great 
miracles  when  the  grave  was  opened  nigh  a  hundred 
and  forty  years  ago  ;  while  as  for  this  Huss,  was  he 
not  burned,  and  were  not  his  ashes  borne  into  the 
lake  of  Constance ;  and  was  he  not  almost  a  Pro- 
testant, and  how  could  the  Pope  make  such  a  mis- 
take? Now,  I  admit  that  the  hazarded  assertion 
requires  confirmation,  that  there  is  a  strong  pre- 
sumptive case  against  it — that  the  story  is  one  of 
the  most  singular,  perhaps  unique,  in  the  hves  of 
saints.  And  so  it  will  be  wisest  and  fairest  to  hear 
the  version  of  the  men  of  Prague  first  ;  and  it  is 
this  : — 

Our  St.  John  was  born  at  Nepomuk,  or  Pomuk, 


1 84  JOHN  BUSS. 

about  1320-30 ;  and  on  the  night  he  was  born- 
tongues  of  fire  streamed  from  the  sky  and  settled 
on  the  house  ;  and  when  he  went  to  school  he  got 
the  service  of  the  mass  by  heart,  and  used  to  run  off 
to  the  Cistercian  chapel  to  help  the  priest,  which 
was  a  clear  proof  of  his  piety ;  and  from  school  he 
went  to  the  university,  and  was  master  of  philosophy 
and  doctor  of  theology,  and  became  the  greatest 
preacher  in  Bohemia,  and  from  the  pulpit  lashed  the 
licentiousness  and  irreligion  of  the  times  and  the 
court,  and  with  such  bold  eloquence  that  even 
Militz  was  forgotten.  Moreover,  like  a  true  saint, 
he  refused  a  bishopric  and  a  probstship  that  was 
the  wealthiest  in  the  country,  and  would  only  accept 
the  place  of  almoner  and  confessor  to  the  Empress. 
But  Wenceslaus,  King  of  Bohemia  and  Emperor  of 
Germany,  was  a  wicked  and  cruel  king,  who  hated 
good  men  and  fought  with  the  Church,  drunken  and 
fierce  and  riotous ;  and  his  wife  was  a  pattern  of 
virtue  and  sorrow,  of  whom  he  was  one  day  tipsilj 
fond  and  the  next  madly  jealous.  And  in  some 
jealous  fit  he  insisted  that  Nepomuk  should  reveal 
the  confessions  of  the  Empress ;  and  being  refused, 
grew  maddened,  and  smote  him  with  bitter  wounds. 
As   soon    as    his   wounds   were    healed,    Nepomuk 


JOHN  HUSS.  185 

preached  in  the  cathedral,  and  prophesied  through 
his  sermon  all  the  woes  that  two  centuries  would 
pour  out  upon  the  true  faith  in  Bohemia.  Then^ 
having  bade  sorrowful  farewells,  he  departed  on  a 
pilgrimage.  Now  Wenceslaus,  sitting  in  a  window 
of  his  palace,  towards  evening,  espied  him  returning 
to  the  city;  and  being  filled  with  sudden  rage  at 
his  sturdy  disobedience,  oi'dered  guards  to  bind  him 
hand  and  foot  and  throw  him  over  the  parapet  of 
the  bridge  into  the  Moldau  ;  and  this  was  done  on 
the  16th  of  May,  1383.  Whereupon  the  tongues  of 
flame  returned,  and  streamed  up  and  down  the  river, 
and  shone  on  the  water  like  a  crown  of  five  stars,, 
so  that  the  city  flocked  out  to  see  the  wonder,  and 
beheld,  in  the  morning,  the  mild  face  of  their 
beloved  preacher.  Then  the  canons  came  out  and 
took  up  the  body,  and  dug  a  grave  in  the  cathedral. 
Grateful  even  then,  the  saint  guided  them  to  a  spot 
that  was  filled  with  treasures  of  gold  and  silver  and 
precious  stones.  But  Wenceslaus  ordered  it  to  be 
closed  up,  and  the  body  thrown  into  a  corner ;  which 
also  being  done,  there  came  forth  of  that  corner  so 
sweet  and  diffusive  an  odour  that  the  spot  could  no 
more  be  concealed,  and  the  body  was  borne  to  its 
true  resting-place  with  state,  and  pomp,  and  ring- 


i86  JOHN  BUSS. 

ing  of  all  bells,  and  marvellous  healing  of  many  that 
were  sick.  And  ever  since  St.  John  has  been 
honoured  for  his  fidelity  to  the  confession  and  his 
duty  to  the  Church,  and  has  helped  those  that  be- 
lieved him  and  punished  those  that  did  not. 

For  do  we  not  know  that  for  very  shame  at  the 
royal  insults  to  our  saint  the  Moldau  dried  up,  and 
famine  and  plague  came  upon  the  land  ? — and  how, 
when  we  had  been  given  over  to  heretics  for  two 
centuries,  a  pious  man  on  the  eve  of  the  battle  of 
Whitehill,  saw  St.  Wenceslaus,  and  St.  Adalbert,  and 
St.  Nepomuk,  as  they  rose  out  of  their  graves  and 
held  council  together  ?  And  does  not  every  woman 
and  child  know  that  when  three  Calvinists  went  to 
scoff  at  St.  Nepomuk's  grave,  one  was  struck  dead, 
another  died  soon  after,  and  the  third  became  an 
idiot ;  and  that  when  two  women  of  our  to^vn 
walked  upon  his  tombstone,  as  they  went  back  over 
the  bridge  one  began  to  swim  as  though  she  were  in 
deep  water,  and  the  other  struggled  as  though  a 
storm  would  carry  her  over  the  parapet ;  and  when 
Father  Chanowsky  himself,  who  thought  it  was  all 
a  story,  walked  upon  the  stone,  as  he  recrossed  the 
Moldau,  he  measured  his  length  in  the  mud  before 
the   crucifix    on   the   bridge  ?     And  on   that   same 


JOBN  BUSS.  187 

bridge  did  not  the  brazen  statue  of  St.  John  visibly 
turn  itself  round  as  the  Prussian  infidels  beleagured 
the  town  in  1744,  so  that  it  remains  turned  round 
as  at  this  moment  ?  Moreover,  there  was  little  Anna 
Zahovzanskiana,  that  was  blind,  as  everybody  knew, 
but  brought  clay  from  the  grave  and  mixed  it  with 
water,  and  rubbed  her  eyes,  and  in  six  hours  saw : 
and  there  w^as  Wenzel  Buschek,  who  fell  into  a  deep 
well  over-night,  but,  calling  on  the  saint,  leaped  out 
unhurt ;  and  Theresia  Krebsin,  who  the  doctor  said 
must  lose  her  arm,  and  she  went  to  St.  John  and 
he  threw  a  paper  into  her  hand  about  fasting  nine 
days  and  praying  ;  and  she  fasted,  and  the  saint 
appeared  to  her  by  night,  and  she  was  healed ;  and 
when  Rosalia  Hodanckidna  fell  into  the  mill-stream, 
and  was  swept  below  the  wheel,  and  had  been  half 
an  hour  under  water,  she  was  drawn  up  unharmed, 
and  given  into  her  parents'  arms,  for  St.  John  ap- 
peared to  her  under  the  water  and  kept  her  safe, 
seeing  she  had  prayed  before  his  statue  every  day 
as  she  went  to  school.  Then  there  was  Kralik, 
the  brewer,  that  had  killed  his  man,  and  lay  in 
prison,  where  he  learnt  a  prayer  from  a  fellow- 
prisoner,  and  prayed  it  to  St.  John  wdth  his  face  to 
the  grave,  and  when  he  was  tried  was  let  off  with  a 


1 88  JOHN  BUSS. 

petty  fine.  So  when  a  young  man  of  good  blood 
was  to  be  prosecuted  for  a  gross  crime,  his  father 
dreading  the  shame  of  his  house,  fled  to  the  saint, 
and  on  the  day  of  the  trial  the  prosecutor  had  dis- 
appeared. Nay,  there  was  even  a  certain  smith  out 
of  Mahren  that  had  murdered  his  wife,  and  as  they 
led  him  off  to  prison  he  cried  vehemently  to  St. 
John,  and  sprang  at  once  out  of  the  grasp  of  his 
captors :  for  it  is  a  very  proverb  in  our  country, 
that  he  who  would  be  kept  from  shame  must  pray 
to  St.  John  ! 

So  far  the  men  of  Prague,  and  indeed  I  might 
run  on  much  further,  and  tell  about  the  saint's 
house  that  he  was  born  in,  and  where  decent  folk 
dwelt  for  some  hundreds  of  years  after,  till  there 
began  a  racket  one  night  that  seldom  stopped  until 
the  house  was  emptied,  and  in  the  saddest  way ; 
for  the  honest  potter  Gelinek  that  was  in  it  did  not 
understand  these  rappings  and  plain  hints,  and  so 
was  found  dead  one  morning,  after  which  there  was 
nothing  left  but  to  build  a  church  on  the  spot, 
according  to  the  saint's  desire,  though  it  might  have 
been  more  plainly  expressed.  Then  the  saint's 
tongue,  that  had  been  so  guarded  in  life,  remained 
inviolable  after  death,  and  is  yet  manifestly  fresh  \ 


JOHN  HUSS.  189 

so  that  when  search  was  made  into  the  matter  by 
papal  bull  in  1725,  before  the  gaze  of  all,  the  tongue 
began  to  swell,  and  change  its  colour  into  the 
purplish  red  hue  of  life.  Finally,  should  any  one 
presumptuously  doubt  what  has  been  said,  let  him 
take  warning  by  the  sceptical  archbishop,  whose 
arm  bore  the  mark  of  the  saint  upon  it  down  to  his 
grave.  Therefore  all  Prague  and  Bohemia  believe 
in  St.  John  of  Nepomuk;  and  after  this  mass  of 
evidence,  what  wonder?  Since  these  narratives  it  is 
clear  are  not  legends  but  facts,  else  how  could  they 
be  written  down,  with  many  more,  by  such  excel- 
lent men  as  Balbinus,  and  Berghauer,  and  Navajo, 
and  Kriiger,  and  in  all  Lives  of  the  Saints  down  to 
the  latest  edition  of  Alban  Butler ;  and  how  else 
could  everybody  know  them?  And  as  for  King 
Wenceslaus  and  the  Battle  of  Whitehill,  and  the 
pope's  bull,  they  are  in  every  history ;  and  there  is 
the  statue  on  the  bridge  before  our  eyes. 

But  unfortunately  for  saints  as  well  as  other  men, 
there  are  people  that  cannot  take  everything  on 
credit,  but  have  an  awkward  habit  of  sifting  freely 
for  themselves,  and  more  awkward  still,  of  drawing 
their  own  conclusions;  and  this  altogether  irre- 
spective of  what  is  everywhere  believed,  and  of  "  re- 


I90  JOHN  BUSS. 

spectable  authority,"  and  the  "  shock  to  the  national 
mind,"  and  anything  short  of  the  truth  itself;  inter- 
meddhng  people,  who  come  between  us  and  the 
quiet  old  historical  faiths  of  our  boyhood  ;  men  who 
would  not  be  shocked  if  St.  George  of  England 
turned  out  to  be  really  the  Arian  Bishop  who  thrust 
Athanasius  from  his  see,  who  might  affect  to  dis- 
believe even  the  Seven  Champions  of  Christendom  ; 
and  for  such  men,  and  the  raising  up  of  a  school  of 
right  historical  criticism,  let  us  be  profoundly 
thankful,  and  that  the  light  is  scattering  the  dense 
fable-clouds  of  the  past.  If  we  lose  the  tints 
and  gorgeousness  of  cloud-land,  we  see  the  real 
living  landscape.  It  is  a  noble  gift  these  men 
exercise — a  noble  profession — of  truth-seekers  ;  all 
the  more  powerful  that  it  be  not  degraded  into 
a  mere  profession ;  that  the  search  for  truth  do 
not  become — as  it  has  threatened  to  become — 
a  mere  clever  and  ingenious  inverting  of  the  judg- 
ments of  the  past ;  that  it  be  reverently,  and 
even  solemnly  carried  on,  not  without  scepticism, 
but  faith  at  heart.  Carried  on :  this  generation 
has  declared  it  will  be  carried  on  into  the  highest 
regions,  flippantly  even  where  men  before  moved 
goftly  or  knelt,  because  it  was  sacred  ground ;  and 


JOHN  HUSS.  191 

carried  on  it  ought  to  be  :  for  the  truth  has  nothing 
to  fear  from  the  light,  and  we  have  everything  to 
gain.  After  fifty  years  of  scientific  inquisition  into 
the  Creation,  that  earliest  chapter  of  the  Bible  still 
"soars  away  on  the  wings  of  the  morning."  And 
the  Bible,  as  the  Truth  itself,  not  only  defies,  but 
rejoices  in  the  keenness  of  criticism.  It  is  unworthy 
of  it  to  hide  it,  unworthy  to  tremble  for  it,  unworthy 
to  call  up  the  fears  of  possible  consequeuces,  and 
place  them  against  the  certainty  of  its  inviolable 
truth;  unworthy,  and  paltry,  and  unrighteous,  to 
think  it  needs  the  shelter  of  abuse,  theological  or 
other.  It,  indeed,  is  independent ;  and  to  irreverent 
and  captious  investigators  may  almost  assume  the 
awful  words :  He  that  sitteth  in  the  heavens  shall 
laugh :  the  Lord  shall  have  them  in  derision.  Re- 
verent search,  from  whatever  quarter,  it  invites; 
wherein  it  is  to  be  remembered,  "  that  they  that  are 
of  the  truth  hear  my  voice  " — they,  and  no  others  ; 
and  that  we  need  not  be  troubled  about  the  truth, 
which  win  never  pass  away,  but  about  those  that 
cannot  hear  it.  And  so  we  may  be  thankful,  and 
not  vexed  or  timid,  as  their  "historical  criticism" 
sweeps  across  our  path ;  even  when  it  sweeps  clean 
away  such  an  ancient  and  national  belief  as  that  of 


192  JOHN  HUSS. 

Eohemia  in  St.  John  of  Nepomuk  ;  for  it  has  become 
very  plain  that  St.  Nepomuk  must  be  given  up,  and 
consigned  to  the  limbo  of  all  nnhistorical  personages. 
Not  but  that  a  John  of  Nepomuk  really  existed,  and 
that  he  was  really  drowned  ;  and  this  is  his  life.  His 
father  was  one  Welflin,  a  citizen  of  Pomuk.  He 
himself  joined  the  clergy,  and  signed  to  his  name  in 
1372  that  he  was  "  clergyman  of  the  diocese  of 
Prague  and  notary  public."  In  1380,  he  was 
preacher  at  the  church  of  St.  Galli ;  in  1381,  canon 
of  the  cathedral,  archdeacon,  and  vicar-general  ;  in 
1393,  he  was  drowned  by  order  of  King  Wenceslaus. 
His  death  (to  use  a  bull)  is  the  only  part  of  his  life 
on  which  history  for  a  moment  lingers,  and  that 
seems  to  have  occurred  in  this  wise.  King  Wen- 
ceslaus, it  has  been  said,  was  not  one  of  the  best  of 
kings ;  and  possibly,  had  Petrarch  been  his  tutor,  as 
was  intended,  it  would  have  been  just  the  same.  He 
was  a  rough,  rude-spoken,  fierce-tempered  monarch, 
with  strong  opinions  upon  his  royal  prerogative,  and 
a  strong  dislike  to  the  meddling  and  encroachments 
of  the  Church, — a  forerunner  of  our  Henry  VIII.,  and 
with  much  of  that  prince's  jealousy  and  unhappy 
family  life.  His  name  has  come  down  as  the  Sloth- 
ful:  his   character  is  blotted  by  his  feeble  inter- 


JOHN  HUSS.  193 

ference  for  his  friend  Huss ;  and  there  are  more  ugly- 
blots  on  it  than  one.  But  the  evil-looking  picture 
that  has  been  accepted  as  a  portrait  has  been  proved 
by  M.  Palacking  to  be  the  work  of  the  Jesuits,  to 
whom  his  cardinal  fault  was  resistance  to  the 
spiritual  power.  For  all  that,  he  was  rough,  if  not 
furious,  in  temper ;  and  often,  we  may  conceive, 
sorely  provoked  by  the  arrogance  of  his  ecclesiastics. 
At  the  head  of  them  was  Archbishop  Genzenstein ; 
and  with  Genzenstein  was  his  archdeacon  of  Nepo- 
muk,  at  whose  suggestion,  it  seems,  an  abbot  was 
appointed  to  a  new  monastery  without  consult- 
ing the  king.  Wenceslaus  wrote  this  archbishop 
a  letter.  "  You  Archbishop,  give  me  up  Castle 
Eudnez  and  all  my  other  castles,  and  pack  out  of 
my  kingdom  of  Bohemia.  And  if  you  undertake 
anything  against  me  or  my  people,  I  will  drown 
you.  Come  to  Prague."  The  message  was  not 
courteous,  but  the  prelate  came  with  John  of  Ne- 
pomuk  in  his  company,  and,  as  prelates  in  those 
days  thought  most  prudent,  with  an  armed  retinue. 
The  king's  wrath  rekindled  as  he  saw  him  ;  and  he 
ordered  him  with  his  household  forthwith  to  prison,, 
saying,  pointing  to  one  and  another:  "I  will  dro-\vn 
you,  and  you,  and  you."     Archbishop  Genzenstein 


194  JOBN  HUSS. 

fled  to  Saxony.     His  household  were  brought  into 
the  torture-chamber,  when  the  king  flew  upon  them 
with  a  burning  brand.     All  except  the  archdeacon 
escaped  by  unconditional   submission :   and  he,  in- 
deed, was  so  severely  bui-nt  that  it  may  have  been 
better  for  him  to  have  been  murdered  outright  by 
being  flung  over  the  bridge  into  the  flooded  Moldau. 
This,  then,  is  the  historical  John  of  Nepomuk,  for 
history  produces  but  the  one ;  and  that  there  were 
two   contemporary  Johns,  both  born  in  Nepomuk, 
both  canons  in   Prague,  both   under  the  wrath  of 
Wenceslaus,  and  both  drowned  in  the  Moldau ;  and 
that   the   chronicles   should  mention  only  the  one, 
who  would  never  have  been  heard  of,  but  for  being 
in  the  household  of  the  archbishop;  and  yet  omit 
the    other,  whose   fame  threw   the   great  name   of 
Militz  into    shade,  this   is   unlikely   enough   to   be 
incredible.     It  must  be  granted  also  that  the  his- 
torical Nepomuk  does  not  answer  to  what  we  must 
now  call  the  legendary.     The  fame  of  a  preacher, 
the  posts  of  almoner  and  confessor  to  the  queen,  do 
not  belong  to  the  archdeacon;   nor  was  the  arch- 
deacon a  mart}^:  to  the  secrecy  of  the  confessional, 
but  to  the  conflicts  between  Church  and  State.     The 
legend  is  right  as  far  as  it  points  to  a  real  John  of 


JOHN  HUSS.  195 

JSTepomuk  and  a  real  martyrdom  tinder  Wenceslaus 
IV.,  Emperor  of  Germany ;  may  it  not  also  be  right 
in  its  mention  of  a  former  preacher,  who  was  also 
confessor  to  the  queen  ?  May  it  not  either  confuse 
or  blend  some  other  name  with  Nepomuk  ?  For 
legends  are  seldom  pure  inventions,  and  in  their 
simplest  and  earliest  form  are  only  the  rude  poetry 
of  history,  out  of  which  it  becomes  the  historical 
critic  to  eliminate  what  is  fact.  It  is  round  the  fact 
that  the  legend  grows ;  because  of  its  fact  that  it 
is  accepted  ;  on  this  basis — whatever  it  be — of  fact 
that  it  flows  down  securely  into  the  hands  of  his- 
torical critics.  And  if  there  is  fact  in  this  legend 
for  the  name,  may  there  not  also  be  for  the  charac- 
ter ? 

Now  there  was  one  man  contemporary  with  Ne- 
pomuk and  Wenceslaus  whose  ecclesiastical  standing 
and  reputation  were  precisely  that  of  the  legendary 
John, — and  this  was  Huss.  Huss  was  almoner  and 
confessor  to  Wenceslaus'  second  queen.  Huss  was 
the  preacher  who  would  most  naturally  suggest 
Militz  to  "men's  minds.  For  Militz,  unlike  Nepo- 
muk, was  not  a  strict  churchman,  but  one  who 
inclined  to  the  simplicity  of  the  Gospel,  whose  heart 
was  grieving  for  the  worldliness  of  his  brother  minis- 

0  2 


196  JOHN  BUSS. 

ters,  wlio  shrank  from  mere  ecclesiastical  power,  and 
saw  the  true  power  of  the  church  in  faithful  preach- 
ing of  the  Gospel  and  godly  living  of  the  clergy. 
And  Huss  went  far  beyond  Militz  in  the  same  direc- 
tion, and  preached  more  boldly  than  even  he  against 
the  corruptions  of  the  time,  and  was  equally  ready 
to  attack  false  miracles  or  the  drunkenness  of  the 
court.  And  with  the  fame  of  his  preaching  there 
spread  his  doctrines,  until  in  Bohemia  he  grew  to  be 
the  hero  of  a  party,  and  that  party,  zealous  for 
purity  of  doctrine  and  the  national  life ;  and  it  may 
fairly  be  said  that  more  clung  to  his  name  than  even 
to  John  Militz.  So,  putting  these  two  together, 
John  Nepomuk,  martyr  in  the  Moldau,  and  John 
Huss,  the  famous  preacher  and  royal  almoner  and 
confessor,  we  have  pretty  nearly  this  legendary  and 
otherwise  altogether  apocr3rphal  saint;  and  in  the 
union  it  must  be  manifest  that  Nepomuk  serves 
merely  as  the  date,  while  the  real  figure  is  Huss, 
that  the  name  and  the  martyrdom  are  the  mere 
framework  on  which  the  character  of  the  saint  is 
raised.  But  how  could  the  Church  of  E,ome  commit 
an  act  so  absurb  and  suicidal  as  to  canonise  the 
proto-martyr  of  the  Keformation  ?  An  impatient 
question,  since  it  has  not  yet  been  asserted  that  the 


JOHN  HUSS.  197 

Church  of  Rome  did  canonise  John  Huss ;  but  not 
an  impertinent  question,  as  may  presently  appear. 

For  that  Huss  was  burned,  and  that  the  flames 
of  his  stake  lighted  a  mighty  fire  in  Bohemia,  and 
that  the  Hussites  established  themselves,  as  the 
national  and  scriptural  party,  until,  after  two 
centuries  of  almost  ceaseless  conflict,  they  were  van- 
quished at  the  great  battle  of  Whitehill,  this  is  com- 
mon history.  In  those  two  centuries  Huss  was  the 
national  hero,  as  much  the  political  as  the  religious 
champion,  for  all  through  the  religious  stmggle  the 
Czechs  were  asserting  their  independence  and 
national  life.  He  was  the  genius  of  the  country 
in  those  its  brightest  and  most  vigorous  days,  the 
man  whose  memory  was  sainted  even  where  his 
doctrine  made  little  way, — -just  the  sort  of  name 
round  which  the  legendary  stories  of  the  country- 
side would  gather.  This  was  the  power  that  fought 
against  the  Jesuits  when  the  country  lay  at  their 
feet.  Could  it  not  be  made  to  fight  with  them  ? 
Why  disturb  traditions  so  deeply  honoured  ?  Why 
uproot  them?  Why  not  give  the  traditions  a  Ca- 
tholic colour  ?  Such  questions  are  not  unfamiliar 
to  Jesuit  fathers,  if  we  may  believe  the  history  of 
Jesuit  missions.     In  China,  Japan,  and  India,  they 


198  JOHN  HUSS. 

have  been  started,  and  answered  in  their  own 
fashion.  Mythologies,  and  temples,  and  great 
names,  and  ancient  legends  have  not  been  torn  out 
of  the  hearts  of  the  people,  but  consecrated  to  a 
Catholic  sense.  It  has  been  the  policy  of  the 
Church  of  Rome  from  the  beginning.  Santa 
VeTiere  is  still  powerful  in  Italy ;  Juno  is  scarce 
concealed  in  the  Madonna  ;  the  Pantheon  raised  by 
Augustus  to  all  the  gods  is  dedicated  by  the  same 
name  to  all  the  saints.  In  Servia  the  old  god  of 
thunder  has  been  christened  Elijah,  and  St.  Nicholas 
is  the  new  name  for  the  god  of  the  rivers  and  the 
sea ;  Woden  appears  as  the  archangel  Michael,  and 
the  ancient  Sclavonian  Sauntewit  migrated  into  St. 
Vitus.  It  is  but  one  example  out  of  many;  hun- 
dreds of  years  after.  Bishop  Dubrav  complained  that 
the  people  still  worshipped  their  old  deities  in  the 
habit  of  the  new  saints.  So  let  them  keep  Huss  if 
they  like ;  let  them  honour  his  festival ;  laud  his 
character;  cherish  his  patriotism;  mourn  his  mar- 
tyrdom ;  only  let  it  be  under  a  new  name  and  in  a 
Catholic  sense.  And  so  they  went  to  work,  cun- 
ningly, and  in  the  end  successfully.  This  drowned 
archdeacon  came  happily  to  hand.  He  became  a 
martyr  to  the  confessional — for  it  was  aU-important 


JOKN  HUSS.  199 

to  establish  tlie  authority  of  the  confessional  over 
Hussite  Bohemia.  Huss  was  the  watchword  of  the 
independent  party,  and  so  Nepomuk  became  the 
champion  of  independent  rights  and  liberty  of  con- 
science against  a  tyrant,  whereby  there  was  a  doable 
Qfain  :  the  strusfgle  for  freedom  was  linked  with  a 
devout  Catholic,  the  king  who  dared  resist  the  en- 
croachments of  the  Church  was  painted  with  the 
blackest  odours  on  the  Jesuit  palette.  The  places 
of  trust  about  the  Court  were  easily  transferred,  and 
with  them  the  clerical  oratory  ;  nay,  in  the  sketches 
of  character,  it  has  been  observed,  the  very  defects  of 
Huss's  vanity,  obstinacy,  and  the  rest,  are  almost 
carelessly  reproduced.  Then,  having  settled  the 
saint's  death  to  be  on  the  day  that  the  Hussites 
remember  their  founder,  there  remained  nothing 
but  to  produce  a  supply  of  the  stock  church  legends 
that  are  the  recognised  property  of  a  saint,  and 
spread  the  tale  of  St.  Nepomuk  in  every  parish. 
And  in  all  this  they  were  abundantly  helped.  For 
it  must  not  be  supposed  that,  clever  as  they  were, 
they  invented  everything  for  themselves.  Most  of 
it  was  ready  to  hand  in  outline  invented  centuries 
before.  The  life  of  Ai'chbishop  Wenzenstein,  written 
soon   after  his  death,   mentions   the  martjTcdom  of 


20O  JOHN  BUSS. 

liis  vicar,  and  vaguely  certain  accompanying  mira- 
cles. In  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century  it  was 
noticed  that  nobody  would  tread  upon  this  IS^epo- 
muk's  tombstone.  In  1471,  Paul  Zidek  relates  that 
he  was  confessor  to  the  queen.  Early  in  the  next 
century  the  cathedral  authorities  placed  a  railing 
round  the  tomb,  to  protect  the  unwary  from  mis- 
chief. In  1341,  Wenzel  Hajek  records  additional 
particulars  of  this  story, — all,  indeed,  that  were  want- 
ing. There  was  some  prospect,  therefore,  that,  but 
for  the  Hussite  war,  Nepomuk  might  have  merged 
into  a  minor  saint.  He  was  not  altogether  un- 
familiar to  his  countr3raien.  Since  the  character  of 
Huss  was  inevitable,  it  could  not  have  been  tagged 
to  a  better  name.  There  was  but  one  mistake,  and 
that  was  helpless.  If  Nepomuk  was  confessor,  it 
must  have  been  to  the  first  empress,  since  Huss 
undoubtedly  was  to  the  second  ;  and  as  his  martyr- 
dom could  not  thus  be  1393,  it  became  1383 ;  and 
that  was  unfortunate,  since  there  was  no  drying  up 
of  the  Moldau  in  that  year,  while  in  1393  there 
undoubtedly  was,  following  hard  upon  the  great 
floods  which  closed  the  year  preceding. 

The  saintship  of  Nepomuk  property  began  with 
the  re-establishment   of  Catholicism    in    Bohemia. 


JOHX  HUSS.  2or 

The  battle  of  Whiteliill  was  lost  in  1620;  the 
first  regular  life  of  Nepomuk  was  put  forward  by 
the  Jesuit  Balbinus  in  1670.  It  was  "  an  expan- 
sion of  Hajek's  single  chapter  into  sixteen ; "  it 
was  the  foundation  of  whatever  was  written  after. 
The  saint  was  thus  already  canonised,  but  he  never 
had  the  sanction  of  the  Pope,  and  this  was  only 
granted  after  special  sifting  and  a  judicial  process. 
This  sifting — Acta  utriusque  processus  in  causa 
canonisationis — was  pubhshed  in  1722.  Balbinus 
gave  as  authority  for  his  biography  various  un- 
specified "  contemporary  manuscripts,"  that  existed 
in  his  own  brain  ;  these  Acts  bring  forward  various 
"  independent "  witnesses  to  repeat  the  manuscripts 
of  Balbinus,  Count  Zynsky,  of  74,  had  heard 
if  from  his  father  of  69.  Dr.  Alsterle  had  it  from 
his  parents,  who  had  it  from  theii^s,  and  the  family 
had  been  "  for  oOO  years  true  to  God,  the  king, 
and  the  Cathohc  Church."  Count  Wratislaw's 
huntsman,  being  118,  gave  ancient  testimony:  and 
Dr.  Hawlicjek,  of  70,  had  heard  it  from  his  grand- 
mother, who  had  heard  it  from  her  mother,  an  old 
lady  of  100.  Unfortunately,  those  ages,  though 
respectable,  were  not  enough,  and  a  "  contempo- 
rary great-grandmother  of  300  could  not  be  found." 


202  JOHN  BUSS. 

Nevertheless,  the  sifting  was  satisfactory,  and  the 
saint  proclaimed  in  1729  ;  to  which  let  us  not  de- 
mur, seeing  saints  have  been  proclaimed  with  less 
reason.  There  is  a  charming  story  of  a  St.  Philu- 
mena,  a  beautiful  Grecian  princess,  that  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  Emperor  Maxentius,  and  refusing 
to  marry  him,  was  flung  into  the  sea  tied  to  an 
anchor,  and  on  the  anchor  refusing  to  sink  was 
beheaded.  But  all  that  was  ever  found  of  this 
saint  were  three  small  bones  in  a  tomb  of  the 
Catacombs,  where  was  written  Philumena,  with  a 
palm  branch  and  an  anchor  and  a  flask  of  the  wine 
of  the  sacrament — Christian  symbols  then  not  un- 
common ;  whereupon  the  Jesuits  took  the  wine  for 
blood  and  the  anchor  for  an  anchor,  and  canonised 
a  saint,  and  their  own  ignorance  or  worse  together. 
So  that  this  judicial  sifting  may  be  taken  for  what 
it  is  worth. 

Nepomuk  was  now  canonised,  but  it  was  needful 
to  have  his  portrait,  and  place  him  beyond  sus- 
picion. This  also  was  discovered,  with  the  state- 
ment, "Painted  from  nature,  20th  May,  1383;" 
and  the  crucifix  is  in  his  hand  and  the  five  stars 
are  above  his  head.  Stubborn,  unbelieving  criti- 
cism is  not  even  yet  satisfied,  and  proves  that  the 


JOHN  HUSS.  203 

five  stars  were  never  seen  about  the  saint  till 
after  1736,  and  tliat  the  date  of  the  picture,  in 
other  respects,  must  be  about  the  same  time. 
Neither  portrait  nor  statue  of  Nepomuk  appears 
until  Balbinus  is  spreading  his  legends  and  writing 
his  book  in  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century. 
But  there  were  ancient  pictures  and  statues  of 
Huss ;  as  old,  at  least,  as  the  century  in  which  he 
was  murdered.  Iconoclasts  as  the  Taborites  were, 
they  could  not  prevent  the  national  hero-worship 
taking  this  direction.  It  is  a  curious  proof  of  the 
change  from  the  true  saint  to  the  false,  that  such 
statues  of  this  sort  as  have  been  found  are 
cunningly  altered  for  adding  the  symbols  of 
Nepomuk.  And  one  recently  discovered  in  a  re- 
mote village,  and  which  represents  Huss  with  the 
Bible  spread  open  on  his  knees,  and  his  eyes  up- 
lifted in  prayer,  has  received  its  five  stars  upon 
the  breast,  because  they  would  fit  in  nowhere  else. 
While,  as  still  more  singular  proof  of  the  inter- 
change of  Huss  with  Nepomuk,  there  are  statues 
unquestionably  of  the  latter,  but  with  the  Bible 
in  his  hand  and  other  symbols  of  the  Reformer. 

There  remains  one  point  more.     St.  Nepomuk  is 
more  than  national  saint  :  to  the  superstition  of  the 


204  JOHN  HUSS. 

people  lie  is  national  god  ;  it  is  not  pretended  for  a 
moment  that  this  was  copied  from  Huss.  This  much 
indeed  lay  in  the  heart  of  the  country,  lay  over  out 
of  old  heathen  times,  and  was  preserved  by  the  igno- 
rance and  conservatism  of  the  country-folk.  There 
is  not  a  land  in  Christendom  where  relics  of  the 
ancient  heathenism  do  not  linger  on  under  the  pro- 
prieties and  resjoectabilities  of  modern  life,  sturdily 
surviving  in  traditional  beliefs.  There  is  probably 
not  a  county  in  England  that  will  not  furnish  stories 
of  its  peasantry  confirmatory  of  this  fact.  And,  what 
better  could  be  expected  of  Bohemia  ?  Since  this 
faith  was  strong,  let  it  clasp  the  legend  round  like 
ivy  over  a  new  wall ;  give  it  that  antiquity  and 
sacredness  that  would  gain  it  reverent  acceptance 
in  the  minds  of  men.  So  the  old  river  spirits  play 
beneath  his  statue  on  the  bridge  ;  and  the  old  faith 
in  the  powers  of  nature  invests  him  with  control 
over  showers  and  dew  aud  fruitfulness  and  famine  ; 
and  the  old  laughing  mischief  of  the  Scandinavian 
fays  pee|)s  out  of  such  stories  as  of  the  two  women 
who  crossed  his  grave,  and  then  so  lamentably 
crossed  the  bridge  :  and  the  old  dualism  of  the 
Northern  gods  steals  into  his  character,  mild  and 
good-natured  in  their  strength,  when  not  provoked. 


JOHN  HU8S.  205 

but  otherwise  malignant  and  terrible.  Like  a  "  very 
Kobold,"  as  Dr.  Abel  says,  (and  his  little  tract — Die 
Legends  von  heiligen  Johann  von  Nepomnuh,  con- 
tains the  fullest  information  on  this  and  on  all  other 
points  of  the  story),  he  twitches  the  chairs,  and  sours 
the  milk,  and  slams  the  doors,  and  pinches  the 
sleepers,  to  eject  the  unhallowed  potter  from  his 
birthplace.  Like  Thor  in  wrath,  he  smites  the 
wicked  Calvinist  upon  his  tombstone.  There  is  the 
background  of  heathenism ;  but  the  foreground  is 
prominent  with  the  saint.  ■» 

And  so  John  Huss,  the  defender  of  Wickliffe,  the 
preacher  of  the  Word,  the  foe  of  the  confessional, 
parent  of  the  great  Utraquist  Church,  of  the  Ta- 
borites,  and  Calixtines,  and  Bohemian  Brethren, 
watchword  of  Bohemiam  Protestants,  and  Proto- 
martyr  of  the  Bohemian  Reformation,  has  become 
a  lawful  saint  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  guardian 
of  bridges  and  cloud-compeller  and  rain-giver  to  his 
native  country,  and  has  a  Society  "  for  spreading  his 
honour,"  and  is  worshipped  by  maidens  of  Prague, 
and  by  all  the  peasants  of  the  Czechs,  and  with 
masses  in  every  chapel*  under  infallible  authority 

*  7034,  in  the  cathedral  of  Prague,  in  the  year  1716.  50,672, 
in  the  same  place,  in  the  year  1721. 


2o6  JOHN  BUSS. 

of  the  very  Pope.  And  "  the  whirligig  of  time 
brings  round  its  revenges,"  surely  none  more  curious 
than  this.  Li  1719,  ninety-three  silver  lamps  were 
found  at  the  grave ;  from  1722-37,  a  multitude  of 
hands,  feet,  heads,  eyes,  ears,  foreheads,  fingers, 
teeth,  breasts,  hearts,  stomachs,  and  children,  of 
silver  and  gold  (one  from  Princess  Schwarzenberg 
of  fourteen  pounds  weight),  was  poured  into  his 
treasury.  To  whom  do  these  and  their  successors 
belong  ?  To  Huss  and  the  Protestants,  or  to  a  saint 
that  never  existed,  and  cannot  claim  them?  And 
the  millions  of  masses  and  prayers,  are  they  in- 
valid being  offered  to  a  heretic  under  ban  of  the 
Church  ?  Or  are  they  more  valid  if  offered  to  a 
saint  that  either  never  was  born,  or  if  born  was 
drowned  ten  years  before  his  death?  Tliese  are 
questions  of  some  interest,  but  there  are  others  of  a 
very  profound  significance. 

What  influence  will  this  memory  of  Huss  have 
upon  Bohemia  ?  The  worship  of  St.  John,  we  are 
told,  is  decaying.  Year  by  year  his  adherents  de- 
crease. Even  the  feeble  tide  of  political  life  in  1848 
threatened  to  sweep  away  his  silver  shrine.  Pro- 
testantism is  on  the  increase  ;  in  some  places 
doubling   its   numbers   within   a  dozen  years.     An 


JOHN  HUSS.  207 

entire  village  has  been  known  to  come  over  to  the 
Protestant  Church  of  its  own  accord.  The  Protes- 
tants, who  are  near  a  hundred  thousand,  have  been 
granted  a  constitution.  The  Gustav-Adoli^h  Society 
has  planted  its  standard  in  the  country,  and  the 
religious  life  and  religious  freedom  are  not  slow  to 
rally  round  it.  The  Bible  is  preached  with  enthu- 
siasm and  purity  in  crowded  churches,  by  men  of  a 
rare  simplicity,  faith,  and  godliness. 

Has  Huss  been  preserved  to  become  in  his  own 
name  the  watchword  of  a  new  crisis  ?  As  the  legfends 
of  St.  John  of  Nepomuk  decay,  will  the  true  John 
stand  out  in  his  true  light  ?  Already  there  are  some 
curious  facts.  Bohemia  is  erecting  a  huge  pile  of 
granite  where  Huss  was  burned  at  Constance ;  the 
present  archbishop  is  holding  up  the  example  of 
Militz,  and  striving  to  unite  men  by  their  love  of 
Christ  and  the  Truth ;  and  this  year  Protestants 
and  Catholics  will  be  keeping  the  thousandth 
anniversary  of  the  introduction  of  Christianity 
among  them.  Will  Huss  or  Nepomuk  be  the  word 
of  power  ? 


MATTHEW    CLAUDIUS,   HOMME    DE 
LETTRES. 


lOMEWHERE  about  that  year  1775,  which 
Goethe  has  designated  the  intellectual 
spring  of  Germany,  there  issued  from 
the  editorial  desk  of  a  pretty  village,  and  printed 
on  dusky  tea-paper,  an  invitation  to  all  men  to 
buy  a  book.  Critics  and  newspaper  writers  could 
have  it  for  three  Hamburg  marks,  but  to  the  general 
reader,  as  one  indifferent  to  honest  worth,  it  was 
made  over  for  two.  Subscriptions  were  to  be  ad- 
dressed to  "  Matthew  Claudius,  Homme  de  Lettres 
a  Wandsheck"  Now,  of  Men  of  Letters  much  has 
been  written,  and  by  the  very  skilfuUest  hand, 
enough,  indeed,  for  this  generation;  and  in  the 
next   they   are   likely  to  take  care  of  themselvea 


MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS.  209 

Already,  they  are  too  many  to  be  heroes;  too 
common  to  sing  paeans  over  them ;  too  strong  to  be 
helped  up  or  put  down.  Yearly,  monthly,  daily, 
by  tons  of  printed  books,  and  magazines,  and  news- 
papers, they  spread  their  works  to  the  four  winds, 
and  whatever  fifth  wind  may  carry  them  down  the 
tide  of  the  future.  Literature  is  reduced  to  a  pro- 
fession, to  the  detriment  of  romance  and  hero- 
worship,  but  every  other  way  a  gain.  The  struggle, 
and  hardship,  and  stern  fight,  even  down  into  death ; 
the  bitterness,  and  poverty,  and  mere  hazard  of 
success  are  almost  passed.  For  the  true  type  of 
literary  hero  we  must  go  back  at  least  a  century. 
He  may  be  heroic  to-day,  but  it  is  the  common 
heroism  of  a  thousand  besides ;  and  on  the  w^hole, 
he  is  sure  of  being  made  comfortable,  and  well-paid, 
and  kindly  and  fairly  dealt  with.  It  is  hard  to 
evoke  any  greatness  out  of  a  man's  availing  himself 
of  such  uncommonly  good  arrangements.  And  with 
Men  of  Letters,  as  such,  either  past  or  present,  this 
paper  has  no  concern.  But  there  is  a  Man  of 
Letters  of  whom  we  have  but  one  or  two  examples, 
whose  rarity  invests  him  with  some  interest,  and 
who  has  hitherto  been  slurred  over  with  the  pal- 
triest notice — the   Christian   Man   of  Letters.     He 


2IO  MATTHEW   CLAUDIUS. 

is  not  to  be  confounded  with  the  maker  of  Christian 
books,  familiar  to  the  librarians  of  the  British 
Museum,  and  readers  of  literary  advertisements,  and 
generally  to  the  religious  public,  a  useful  man  in 
his  way.  Nor  is  he  to  be  confounded,  on  the  other 
hand,  with  the  Christian  teacher,  whose  accredited 
office  is  to  teach,  and  who,  for  the  most  part,  teaches 
nobly  and  well.  He  is  a  Christian,  but  as  a  writer 
he  is  peculiarly  a  Man  of  Letters.  That  is  his 
profession,  sole  vocation  that  he  recognises  ;  his 
business  is  with  literature  for  its  own  sake,  and 
literature  in  the  broadest  sense,  but  at  the  same 
time  he  is  one  who  humbly  behoves  in  Christ. 
Perhaps  by  the  very  necessity  of  the  case  this 
combination  is  rare.  And  for  other  reasons  Claudius 
is  unique  ;  a  character  and  life  for  which  there  is 
no  parallel.  So  peculiar  a  type  of  thinker  must  be 
worth  looking  at,  independently  of  any  merit  and 
originality  in  his  thoughts  ;  and  his  writings,  unfor- 
tunately not  yet  accessible  in  English,  furnish  abun- 
dant material  for  the  purpose. 

Matthew  Claudius  was  bom  in  the  vicarage  of 
Reinfeld,  in  Schleswig,  on  the  15th  August,  1740. 
He  was  of  a  clerical  family,  that   had  its   line    of 


MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS.  211 

preachers  unbroken  from  the  Reformation ;  and  for 
at  least  four  generations  had  settled  itself  in  quiet 
secluded  cures.     Their  simple  lives   seem   to  have 
flowed  evenly  enough ;    nor  did   they  make  much 
noise   in  the  world,  being  given  to  do  their  w^ork, 
and   no    more ;    faithful,    honest,    God-fearing,    and 
long-lived  men,  from  whom  at  length   sprung  the 
Claudius  that  was  to  preserve  them  all  in  the  tangled 
story   of    the   world.       Certain   mellow    and  genial 
influences  he  brought  with  him  out  of  that  placid, 
pastoral  ancestry  that  had   taken   so   many   gene- 
rations to  ripen  its  fruits  ;  a  meditative  and  calm 
habit  that  never  could  rightly  accommodate   itself 
to  the  city  whirl  and  strife  ;  and  a  devout  bent  of 
mind  and  simple  reverence  for  truth  that  single  him 
from    his    better-known    contemporaries.      Certain 
other  influences  he  drew  from  that  hearty,  sturdy 
peasantry  to  Avhom  his  father  and  grandfather  had 
preached, — thorough   German  souls,  with   scarce   a 
touch  of  foreign  weakness ;   primitive  in  manners, 
and   speech,  and  morals ;    a  race  on  the  whole  of 
very   notable   and  decided  character.     A  deep  im- 
pression was  left  by  his  father.     He  describes  him 
as  "  a  mild  star  shining  out  of  better  worlds,"  from 
which  his  life  drew  blessing  and  soft  radiance ;  and 


212  MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS, 

in  some  verses  on   his  deatti,  tie   says,  with   great 

simplicity  : — 

**  A  good  man  lies  beneatli  this  stone, 
And  lie  was  more  to  me." 

For  the  rest,  he  was  influenced,  as  most  of  us  are, 
by  teachers,  and  books,  and  men. 

A  school  was  found  for  him  about  eighteen  miles 
away,  where  he  went  through  the  usual  training 
to  fit  him  for  the  university;  it  being  determined 
that  he  was  to  follow  his  father  into  the  ministry. 
Beyond  an  occasional  whimsical  glance  back  at  his 
rector,  we  learn  little  of  his  school-days.  All  the 
teaching  was  in  Latin,  and  this  was  irksome  to  one 
that  was  to  write  a  German  as  idiomatic  and  popu- 
lar as  Cobbett's  English.  Punishments  were  fre- 
quent, and  altogether  the  rector  was  a  man  of  no 
great  amiability,  answering  in  many  respects  to 
famous  James  Bowyer,  immortalized  by  Coleridge 
and  Lamb ;  for  he  was  a  scholar  and  made  scholars, 
although  given  to  hard  flogging,  and  a  rough  sort 
of  wit  by  way  of  running  accompaniment.  At  nine- 
teen, Claudius  joined  his  brother  Josias  at  Jena,  and 
entered  the  university  as  a  student  of  law.  It  was 
not  the  profession  that  had  been  chosen  for  him, 
not  that  he  would  have  chosen  for  himself,  if  indeed 


MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS,  213 

lie  would  have  chosen  any ;  but  a  threatening  of 
consumption  compelled  him  to  relinquish  the  mi- 
nistry, and  of  necessity  he  turned  to  something 
else,  slowly  drifting  all  the  while  into  his  proper 
calling.  His  university  impressions  were  vivid 
through  life,  though  he  gained  little  from  his 
teachers  there. 

"I  have  been  at  the  university,  and  studied. 
Well,  I  did  not  study ;  but  I  was  at  the  university, 
and  know  all  about  it.  I  was  acquainted  with  some 
students,  and  they  were  the  whole  university  to  me. 
The  students  sit  together  on  benches  as  if  they 
were  at  church  ;  and  by  the  window  there  is  a  stool, 
and  there  sits  the  professor,  and  delivers  about 
this  thing  and  the  other  all  kinds  of  addresses, 
and  they  call  that  teaching.  He  that  sat  on  the 
stool  when  I  was  there  was  a  master,  and  wore  a 
great  frizzed  wig,  and  the  students  said  his  learning 
was  even  greater  and  frizzier  than  his  wig,  and  that, 
privately,  he  was  as  great  a  free-thinker  as  ever  a 
one  in  England  or  France.  He  could  demonstrate 
as  quick  as  lightning.  When  he  undertook  a  sub- 
ject, he  just  began,  and  before  you  could  look  round 
it  was  demonstrated.  He  would  demonstrate,  for 
example,  that  a  student  is   a  student,  and   not   a 


214  MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS. 

rhinoceros.  For,  he  would  say,  a  student  is  either 
a  student  or  a  rhinoceros ;  but  a  student  can't  be 
a  rhinoceros,  or  else  a  rhinoceros  must  be  a  student ; 
but  the  rhinoceros  is  no  student :  therefore  a  stu- 
dent is  a  student.  You  may  think  that  was  intelli- 
gible of  itself;  but  one  of  us  knew  better;  for  he 
said,  '  that  a  student  is  not  a  rhinoceros,  but  a  stu- 
dent,' is  a  first  principle  of  all  philosophy.  Then  he 
came  upon  learning  and  the  learned,  whereupon  he 
let  himself  loose  against  the  unlearned.  Whether 
God  is,  and  what  He  is,  philosophy  alone  teaches, 
he  said ;  and  without  philosophy  you  can  have  no 
thoughts  of  God.  Well,  no  one  can  say,  with  any 
truth,  that  I  am  a  philosopher;  but  I  never  go 
through  a  wood  that  I  don't  fall  thinking  who 
made  the  trees  grow.  Then  he  spoke  of  hills  and 
valleys,  and  sun  and  moon,  as  if  he  had  helped  to 
make  them.  I  used  to  think  of  the  hyssop  upon 
the  wall,  but,  to  say  the  truth,  it  never  came  into 
my  head  that  our  Master  was  as  wise  as  Solomon. 
It  strikes  me  that  he  that  knows  what  is  right,  must, 
must — if  I  only  saw  such  an  one,  I  would  know  him, 
and  I  could  sketch  him  with  his  clear,  bright,  quiet 
eye,  his  calm  large  consciousness, — such  an  one 
must  not  give  himself  airs,  least  of  all  despise  and 


MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS.  215 

scold  others.  Oh,  self-conceit  is  a  poisonous  thing  ; 
grass  and  flowers  cannot  grow  in  the  neighbour- 
hood." 

Clearly,  such  teachers  could  do  little  for  him ; 
and,  as  he  says,  his  university  was  a  group  of 
friendly  students.  And  to  more  than  him,  such  are 
the  truest  Alma  Mater  that  their  kter  life  recog- 
nises,— living  books  from  which  they  have  drawn 
endless  variety  of  living  teaching.  The  genial  col- 
lision of  fresh  and  eager  minds,  and  interchange  of 
open  friendly  opinion ;  country  walks,  sustained 
with  keen  and  humorous  debate;  and  evenings  in 
friendly  chambers,  where  the  converse  runs  glori- 
ously on  into  the  night, — it  is  these  that  have 
helped  on  the  thought  that  a  hundred  lectures 
would  never  have  reached.  Nothing  has  been  pre- 
served of  that  Jena  circle  which,  we  are  told, 
grouped  itself  into  a  "  German  Society,"  and  strove 
after  higher  things  than  beer  and  the  duello ;  nor  is 
there  other  notice  of  that  university  career,  save  one, 
characteristic  in  its  very  sorrow.  Josias  died  of  the 
complaint  that  had  threatened  his  brother,  and 
young  Matthew,  then  twenty,  uttered  a  funeral 
oration,  after  the  somewhat  barbarous  custom, 
before    the    faculty   and    students,   on    the   thesis, 


2i6  MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS. 

Whether  and  how  far  God  determines  the  death  of 

Three  years  later,  lie  made  his  first  literary- 
venture,  and  left  the  university.  The  book  was  of 
no  value,  and  but  one  trifling  poem  was  rescued  by 
his  later  judgment ;  but  it  was  significant.  Book- 
wi'iting  was  manifestly  to  be  his  vocation,  and  he 
took  no  steps  to  any  other.  In  Germany,  the  law 
throws  open  a  variety  of  occupations  inconceivable 
in  this  country;  yet  he  remained  passive  at  home. 
It  may  have  been  "shyness,"  as  some  suggest, 
or  the  "  demand  of  a  contemplative  nature."  Pro- 
bably it  was  something  more  commonplace,  a 
defective  business  faculty,  and  a  poor  knowledge  of 
his  profession.  He  expressed  to  Herder  a  modest 
view  of  his  acquirements  in  that  direction : — "  I 
can  write  and  cipher ;  I  don't  know  much  of  law, 
either  national  or  international ;  I  could  once  write 
Italian,  and  still  write  French  grammatically  but 
not  idiomatically;  I  understand  Greek,  Latin,  English, 
Danish,  Dutch,  and  some  Swedish  and  Spanish ;  I 
heard  lectures  on  the  Institutes,  and  Pandects,  and 
history,  but  I  really  know  nothing  more  of  Insti- 
tutes, Pandects,  and  history,  than  bare  necessity 
compels,"     To  those  acquirements  he   might  have 


MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS,  217 

added  mathematics,  a  science  that  he  pursued  with 
uncommon  zeal  and  skill,  and  even  taught  with 
some  success;  music,  for  which  he  had  a  genuine 
passion ;  the  modern  literature  of  his  country,  and  a 
faculty  of  verse.  Yet  none  of  them  promised  much 
help  to  the  lawyer ;  and  young  authors  cannot 
afford  to  live  on  the  strength  of  a  book  that  no  one 
will  buy.  So  he  went  for  a  year  to  Copenhagen,  as 
secretary  to  a  Count  von  Holstein,  then  loitered 
three  years  again  at  Keinfeld,  and,  in  1768,  went  to 
Hamburg  as  a  writer  for  the  press. 

The  poetic  life  within  him  was  struggling  into 
activity,  and  from  the  day  of  his  acquaintance  with 
Klopstock,  poetry  wore  a  new  meaning.  "Mr. 
Ahrens  used  to  say  to  us  at  school,  '  No,  no ;  these 
are  not  verses  :  verses  must  rhyme.'  He  would  put  • 
me  before  him,  and  pull  me  first  by  the  one  ear  and 
then  by  the  other,  and  say,  'There's  an  ear,  and 
there's  an  ear,  that  rhymes;  and  verses  must 
rhyme.'  Why,  I  can  read  two  hundred  verses  an 
hour,  and  it  is  much  the  same  as  wading  through 
water ;  but  here  [it  is  Klopstock's  Odes]  I  cannot 
lift  my  eyes  from  the  book,  and  it  is  as  if  forms  I  had 

once  seen  in  dreams  stood  before  me I 

had  heard  from  Mr.  Ahrens  that  verses  were  a  kind 


2i8  MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS. 

of  foamy  froth  that  must  rhyme ;  but  my  cousin 
says  that  they  must  not  froth  at  all,  but  must  be 
clear  as  drops  of  dew,  and  penetrating  as  the  sighs 
of  love."  Another  acquaintance  was  exercising  no 
little  influence  upon  him.  This  was  Schonborn,  the 
son  of  a  Holstein  pastor,  whose  brilliant  intellect 
and  energy  won  him  a  place  among  the  best  men  of 
his  time  ;  "  with  a  face,"  as  Claudius  describes  him 
to  Herder,  "  like  oak-bark,  a  heart  like  the  down  of 
flowers,  and  the  mind  of  Newiion  and  Cartesius." 
Intercourse  with  other  minds  was  bringing  him  into 
personal  contact  with  the  questions  of  the  day.  It 
was  when  the  long  reign  of  lifeless  orthodoxy  and 
propriety  was  drawing  near  its  end,  and  the  reign  of 
doubt  was  beginning.  The  younger  intellects  were 
on  the  side  of  scepticism;  they  were  impatient  of 
mathematical  demonstrations  of  truth  and  right; 
the  old  world  of  thought  had  become  hollow  and 
artificial ;  and  honest  inquirers  shrunk  from  it  in 
dismay.  Lifeless  orthodoxy  had  almost  ended  in 
lifeless  scepticism;  and  should  any  life  come  into 
scepticism,  orthodoxy  was  in  danger  of  being  wholly 
swept  aAvay.  The  older  men  clung  to  the  church 
and  its  forms  and  its  rules  with  a  desperate 
tenacity;   as  for  any  living  power  in  the  word  of 


MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS.  219 

truth  tliat  carried  its  force  of  conviction  within 
itself,  they  knew  nothing,  nothing  but  bare  for- 
mulas. The  younger  men  were  weary,  and  sought 
something  higher  and  worthier;  but  in  the  search 
they  went  adrift  over  the  great  sea  of  speculation, 
and  took  no  guide.  To  them  also  the  Word  had 
no  living  power,  and  they  cast  it  aside;  but  they 
looked  for  what  had  power,  and  believed  they  could 
find  it,  enthusiastic  and  warm  as  they  were  with  the 
heat  of  youth.  Such  opp'osite  parties  were  likely  to 
stir  many  questions,  and  among  them  the  very 
deepest.  There  was  already  beginning  the  strange 
and  chaotic  ferment  of  opinion  that  closed  the 
century.  And  Claudius  was  now  fairly  in  the  fight 
with  the  rest.  He  had  learned  something  in  Copen- 
hagen, been  at  least  roused  and  startled  there ;  he 
had  gained  much  in  the  leisure  years  of  thought 
that  followed ;  and  at  Hamburg  he  was  thrown  again 
into  the  strife.  Lessing,  Herder,  Klopstock,  were 
among  his  friends;  at  the  house  of  the  younger 
Beimarus  he  met  the  freethinkers  ;  a+.  the  Sieve- 
kings  whatever  of  true  culture  and  intellect  and 
goodness  there  was  in  Hamburg.  His  own  powers 
rapidly  developed ;  energy  stimulated  their  growth ; 
and  instead  of  being  a  mere  unit  in  the  brilliant 


220  MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS. 

literary  society,  he  became  one  of  its  noted  mem- 
bers. 

His  connexion  with  the  first  newspaper  was 
dropped  in  less  than  two  years,  and  he  was  only 
saved  from  absolute  want  by  obtaining  a  place  in 
the  "  Wandsbeck  Messenger."  This  petty  paper 
was  printed  at  Wandsbeck,  a  pretty  little  village 
just  out  of  Hamburg,  and  thither  Claudius  removed, 
and  was  content;  though  on  how  little,  let  under- 
writers for  the  German  press  declare.  In  one  of 
his  papers  he  alludes  in  his  jesting  way  to  Tycho 
Brahe's  residence  at  Wandsbeck :  "  for  you  have  no 
doubt  heard  that  Tycho,  maker-of-calendars,  and 
peeper-at-the-stars,  used  in  his  time  to  observe  the 
course  of  the  stars  from  Wandsbeck,  and  that  this 
Tycho  Brahe  had  a  nose  of  silver  and  gold  and  wax, 
since  in  the  night-time  a  nobleman  had  duelled  off 
his  nose  of  flesh.  I  call  him  to  witness  that  I  have 
no  nose  of  gold  and  silver  and  wax,  and  that  hy 
consequence  I  do  not  observe  the  courses  of  the 
stars  from  Wandsbeck."  If  the  pay  is  little  and  the 
wit  is  dull,  and  of  that  peculiar  character  known  in 
Germany  as  humour,  at  least  the  writer  is  in  good 
spirits,  and  looks  cheerfully  and  bravely  out  at  the 
world  from  the  little  red-roofed  village  street,  not 


MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS.  221 

dreaming  as  yet  that  Wandsbeck  would  be  better 
known  to  after  generations  by  its  sad-coloured  and 
over-scanty  Messenger,  than  by  any  number  of 
observations  on  the  heavens. 

Other  stars  than  heavenly,  indeed,  he  found  leisure 
to  observe ;  for,  watching  the  village  street,  Claudius 
caught  a  new  interest  that  absorbed  him  for  the 
time.  There  are  schools  in  Germany  for  knitting, 
and  other  housewifery  work  of  that  patient  kind, — 
excellent  institutions  in  their  way,  although  not  in- 
tended for  what  came  of  one  in  the  sexton's  house  at 
Wandsbeck.  Passing  to  the  school,  an  "  uncommonly 
beautiful,  lively  and  loveable  "  young  girl  threw  her 
pleasant  shadow  across  the  editor's  window  twice  a 
day.  This  was  too  much  for  a  poet,  and  homme  de 
lettres.  He  learned  that  «he  was  the  best  answerer 
in  the  catechising  at  church,  and  that  her  father  was 
a  carpenter,  and  struck  up  an  acquaintance  by  a 
true  lover's  ingenuity.  He  found  that  he  wanted  a 
large  table,  and  that  no  one  could  make  it  but  the 
carpenter  Behn,  yet  so  many  alterations  came  about 
in  that  piece  of  furniture  (happily  still  extant),  and 
so  many  visits  must  be  paid  to  carpenter  Behn's 
house,  that  having  one  day  invited  some  Hamburg 
friends  and  a  clergyman,  he  surprised  them  by  pull- 


222  MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS. 

ing  the  licence  out  of  his  pocket,  and  begging  them  to 
remember  they  were  wedding  guests.  The  marriage 
was  as  happy  in  its  results  as  odd  in  its  conception ; 
and  the  charming  purity  and  reality  of  the  family 
life,  so  naively  described  by  Claudius  in  his  letters 
to  Andrew,  was  long  a  healthy  and  noble  protest 
against  the  Wertherisms  and  other  hollow  sentimen- 
talities that  at  that  time  overran  Europe.  "  She 
had  a  pair  of  blue  eyes,"  he  says  himself,  "  and  her 
face  was  white  and  red.  As  it  many  a  time  happens 
that  a  blind  hen  finds  a  corn,  so  it  was  now.  De 
gustibus  non  est  disputandum;  in  short,  once  she 
pressed  my  hand  under  four  eyes,  and  said  that  I 
was  the  one,  and  that  so  I  should  remain,  I  can 
never  say  what  a  stone  fell  off  my  heart,  and  how 
short  the  day  and  night  grew,  and  how  easy  every- 
thing went."  And  in  a  poem  to  his  wife  on  her 
silver  wedding-day  he  says  with  deeper  earnest- 
ness : — 

'*  Fortune  and  weal  of  all  my  life  art  thou, 
Full  -wise  was  I  to  find  thee  for  my  own  : 
And  yet  not  I.     God  gave  thee  then  and  now, 
Such  blessings  come  from.  His  dear  hand  alone." 

Wandsbeck  was  the  place  for  an  idyl,  and  Claudius 
and  his  young  wife  entered  on  life  in  a  purely  idyllic 


MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS.  223 

way.  Yoss,  the  translator  of  Homer,  and  editor  of 
the  Gottingen  "  Almanack  of  the  Muses/'  was  there, 
and  he  WTites  : — "  We  are  all  day  with  brother 
Claudius,  and  commonly  lie  in  the  shaded  arbour  of 
the  bowUng-green,  and  listen  to  the  cuckoo  and  the 
nightingale.  His  wife  lies  beside  us,  dressed  as  a 
shepherdess,  with  loose  flowing  hair,  and  her  child  in 
her  arms.  We  drink  coffee  and  tea,  smoke  a  pipe, 
and  prattle,  or  compose  something  for  the  Mes- 
sengerr  And  even  some  years  later,  Voss's  wife, 
beautiful,  true-hearted  Ernestine  Boie,  supplies  a 
companion  picture.  "  We  visited  Claudius'  mother- 
in-law  very  often.  She  had  a  hostehy  for  honest 
citizen's  families,  and,  with  her  two  daughters,  was 
right  well  skilled  in  serving  the  guests.  There  were 
two  nine-pin  alleys  in  her  garden,  and  we  took  pos- 
session of  one.  Claudius  was  president  of  the  society, 
and  no  one  was  invited  without  his  permission. 
Every  luxury  was  strictly  forbidden,  even  coffee  and 
tea.  There  was  only  Kaltenhof  beer  (Claudius' 
ideal),  and  pure  water  from  the  well,  bread  and 
butter,  cheese,  and  cold  meat.  Many  a  time  we 
played  till  ten  o'clock,  and  in  the  moonlight."  But 
life  is  more  than  playing  nine-pins  and  dressing  like 
shepherdesses ;  and  when  two  daughters  were  born, 


i224  MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS. 

and  the  semiquarto  Messenger  remained  almost  sta- 
tionary, life  assumed  a  rougli  and  anxious  aspect, 
and  the  prattling  under  green  trees  was  exchanged 
for  eager  letters  for  help.  To  this  end,  Herder  was 
busy  at  Darmstadt,  and  obtained  at  last  a  secretary- 
ship to  the  Chancellerie.  Claudius,  whose  wishes 
were  rather  for  "  some  quiet  post,  such  as  director  of 
an  hosj)ital,  or  other  charity,  in  a  wood  ;  steward  of 
a  hunting-seat,  garden-inspector,  village-bailiff,"  or 
other  like  modest  work,  shrunk  from  the  higher 
station.  He  tried  repubhshing  his  contributions  to 
the  Messenger  ;  his  friends  tried  for  a  situation  ;  he 
even  betook  himself  to  translation,  most  hazardous 
and  toilsome  of  all  literary  expedients.  And  he  went 
about  it  with  a  buoyancy  and  simplicity  of  soul,  and 
freedom  from  final  apprehension,  that  tell  much  for 
his  family  peace.  He  was,  indeed,  never  meant  for 
a  mere  writing-machine.  He  would  only  write  when 
he  could,  when  his  thoughts  needed  writing :  and  to 
go  on  pouring  out  words  in  continuous  flow  for  a 
return  of  so  much  bread,  was  a  task-work,  and  sacri- 
fice of  truth  and  dignity,  that  was  impossible.  Yet 
he  was  a  Man  of  Letters, — born  for  that  as  it 
seemed. 

At  this    juncture  the    problem  was    solved    by 


MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS.  225 

another  Darmstadt  offer ;  and  to  Darmstadt  he  re- 
paired, to  be  one  of  the  Commissioners  of  Land,  with 
600  florins  of  income.     It  has  never  been  clearly 
made  out  what  that  ofl&ce  was  in  Claudius'  mind. 
"  Mumsen  asked  him  what  he  had  to  do  ?    '  Nothing/ 
he  repUed  ;  '  but  let  everything  go  on.'  "     He  lived 
"pleasantly  and  quietly/'  had  some  genial  literary 
intercourse,  yet  longed  for  the  arbours  of  Wands- 
beck.     And  when  the  Land  Commission  broke  downi 
within  a  year,  he  made  joyful  speed  to  the  pretty 
idyUic  village,  with  these  thoughts  for  the  future  : — 
"Translation,  continuation  of  Asmus,  and  commit 
thou  all  thy  ways''     This  slender  provision  is  cha- 
racteristic.    Life  might  be  rough  and  harsh  upon 
occasions,  but  he  met  it  with  the   simple  smile  of 
present  trust.      He  had  few  wants,  and  if  only  he 
could  live  it  was  enough.     For  two  years,  the  sons 
of  the  philosopher  Jacobi  were  boarded  with  him, 
and  helped  somewhat.     But  when  they  left,  and  he 
saw  eight  children  about  him,  and  felt  how  little  his 
pen  could  do  for  so  many,  he  took  a  singular  step. 
For  he  wrote  to  the  King  of  Denmark,  then  Regent, 
for  "  some  post,  not  very  lucrative  ;  "  and  as  he  felt 
himself  incapable  of  all  posts,  he  begged  the  Crown 
Prince  "  to  speak  a  word  of  power,  and  to  order  for 

Q 


226  MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS. 

him  what  he  was  fit  for."  Probably  no  one  but 
Claudius  would  have  thought  of  such  a  letter,  and 
quite  certainly  no  one  else  could  have  written  it. 
The  result  came,  with  scarce  any  delay,  in  the  shape 
of  a  bank  appointment  at  Altona,  involving  no 
change  of  residence,  requiring  little  attention,  and 
bringing  a  salary  of  £150  a  year.  From  this  time 
he  could  write  his  fancies  in  peace,  secure  against 
the  hunger-fiend.  As  a  mercantile  transaction,  it 
was  scarcely  prudent ;  and  it  would  not  be  for  the 
interest  of  banks  to  appoint  every  dreamy  Man  of 
Letters  a  director,  and  to  leave  them  wooing  the 
Muses  in  every  pretty  village  of  their  liking.  But  it 
would  not  be  in  the  interest  of  the  world  that  Men 
of  Letters  should  die  of  hunger;  and  it  never  has 
been  in  the  interest  of  the  world  that  it  suffered  its 
Men  of  Letters  to  starve  in  garrets,  and  roam 
through  the  homeless  streets,  and  languish  with- 
out hope  in  Grub  Street.  So  much  of  the  truest 
light  that  was  in  the  world  has  been  extmguished, 
trampled  out  by  that  world  with  its  careless  foot, 
while  it  strode  haughtily  on  in  its  darkness.  It  is 
becoming  slowly  conscious  of  that  now,  establishing 
pensions  and  civil  lists,  and  like  institutions.  Its 
Men  of  Letters  are  a  glory  to  it ;  it  would  wear  them 


MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS.  227 

as  decorations,  as  many  as  it  can  show  on  its  broad 
breast.  It  would  even  pet  and  huzza  them — when 
they  have  shown  that  they  cannot  be  put  down.  But 
it  has  not  yet  got  to  feel  that  they  are  its  workers, 
as  genuine  and  necessary  as  any  other.  And  until 
then,  we  must  accept  such  clumsy  and  harmless 
expedients  as  drew  Claudius  an  income  out  of  the 
Altona  bank,  and  honour  them  as  instalments  of 
what  is  due,  and  as  isolated,  righteous,  and  beneficent 
acts. 

As  Man  of  Letters,  Claudius  was  true  to  his  call- 
ing. Perhaps  it  is  the  best  thing  that  can  be  said 
of  him  as  such.  He  felt  it  to  be  something  noble, 
almost  sacred,  not  to  be  paltered  with  for  bread  or 
reward,  not  to  be  lowered  into  mere  drudge  work, 
counted  out  by  the  page,  and  weighed  by  the  silver. 
He  had  no  foolish  scorn  for  the  money  value  of 
thought.  He  had  set  himself  to  live  by  thought, 
if  it  would  support  him.  "  I  beg  all  editors  of 
newspapers,  and  the  rest,"  he  wrote  half  piteously, 
'^not  to  clip  out  my  book  into  their  columns,  for 
it  is  my  staff  of  life."  But  if  such  thoughts  as  he 
could  fairly  write  would  not  support  him,  he  would 
use  no  other.  He  wrote  with  a  high  and  earnest 
purpose,  as  one  who  knew  he  uttered  the  inarticulate 

q2 


228  MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS. 

thoughts  of  many,  and  that  when  they  became  arti- 
culate they  would,  in  whatever  feeble  way,  be  a 
power  in  the  world,  and  influence  the  hearts  and 
lives  of  men  ;  and  it  concerned  him  that  it  should 
be  such  influence  as  he  could  honestly  stand  over. 
Soon  after  settling  at  Wandsbeck  he  had  republished 
his  contributions  to  the  Messenger,  and  the  success 
of  that  venture  induced  him  to  continue.  What  he 
had  to  say  was  thus  given  to  the  world  in  thin  and 
irregular  volumes,  appearing  at  intervals  between 
1774  and  1814,  and  bearing  the  name  of  ''  Collected 
Writinofs  of  the  Wandsbeck  Messeno^er,  or  Asrtius 
omnia  sua  Secuon  2^ortans."  It  was  of  the  most 
various  and  miscellaneous  character  :  epigTam,  para- 
ble, essay,  song,  speculations  on  philosophy,  criticism 
on  current  literature,  letters,  proverbs,  dialogues  with 
the  Emperor  of  Japan,  flights  at  politics,  religious 
musings,  all  clustered  together  without  effort  at 
arrangement.  From  his  editorial  desk  he  looked 
out  on  the  broad  world  as  on  some  huge  extent  of 
panorama,  slowly  unfurling,  and  passed  his  remarks 
freely  on  whatever  caught  his  notice,  or  sat  silent  as 
it  pleased  him.  He  is  intensely  personal,  holds  you 
by  the  button  till  he  delivers  his  opinion  ;  a  pleasant, 
satirical,  not  voluble  companion,  and  never  egotisti- 


MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS.  229 

cai.  Bidding  farewell  to  his  readers,  he  says,  "  I 
make  no  apology  for  my  writings.  I  am  not  a 
learned  man,  and  never  gave  myself  out  for  it. 
What  I  have  done  has  been  to  the  best  of  my 
ability,  and  I  say  in  all  frankness,  that  I  could  have 
brought  together  nothing  better."  This  earnestness 
and  honesty  of  purpose,  and  frankness  of  self-esti- 
mate, give  character  to  the  eight  volumes ;  his  own 
presence  in  every  page  lends  them  a  peculiar 
piquancy  and  charm.  He  reveals  himself  in  the 
pleasantest  little  touches  of  character,  with  the  ease 
of  being  perfectly  natural.  He  tells  us  how  the 
tears  sprung  into  his  eyes  while  his  mother  told  him 
that  the  moon  went  seeking  Endymion  through  the 
sky ;  that  he  could  not  bear  to  see  even  a  dog  die  ; 
that  he  loved  to  wander  through  the  deep  woods 
singing  his  Psalm  ;  that  he  and  his  wife  used  to 
walk  out  under  the  silent,  solemn  stars ;  and  when 
Paul  (the  thief !)  had  stolen  his  hard-earned  crowns, 
he  walked  into  the  country,  and  saw  a  river  and  soft 
meadow-land  and  horses  and  cows  and  sheep  on  the 
bank,  and  the  cows  well  up  in  the  water,  leisurely 
drinking,  "  and  I  forgave  him  in  my  heart  where  I 
stood,  and  went  home."  It  wavS  so  gentle  a  nature, 
so  exquisitely  sensitive  to  all  influences  of  earth  and 


230  MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS. 

sky,  so  humble  and  tender  and  reverent  and  pure. 
There  never  was  an  evening  hymn  as  compact  of 
calm  and  loving  and  holy  thoughts,  as  truly  a  bridal 
of  earthly  beauty  and  heavenly  peace,  as  his  Now 
rest  the  woods  again,  for  which  readers  are  referred 
to  Miss  Winkworth^s  excellent  translation.  Yet 
there  was  nothing  sentimental  about  him,  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  great  moral  strength  and  healthful- 
ness.  "  If  the  sunrise  does  not  move  you,  and  you 
must  squeeze  tears  into  your  eyes,  then  spare  such 
made  water,  and  let  the  sun  rise  without  tears." 
''  Poor  Werther,"  he  says  again,  "  if  he  had  only  just 
travelled  to  Paris  or  Pekin  I "  And  his  parallel 
between  Shakspere  and  Voltaire  is  worth  preserv- 
ing :  "  The  one  is  what  the  other  only  appears, 
Voltaire  tells  you,  '  Now,  I  shall  weep,'  and  Shak- 
spere weeps."  No  modern  German  poet  has  written 
a  healthier  song  than  his  Mheimueinlied,  mighty 
and  strong  as  the  Rhine  itself.  His  "  Peasant  Song  " 
has  all  the  breadth  and  manliness  of  Robert  Burns, 
and  what  Burns  had  not,  an  outspoken  and  thankful 
faith  in  God  :  for,  as  he  says  himself,  "  a  poet  should 
be  a  pure  flint  from  which  the  fair  heavens  and  the 
fair  earth  and  our  holy  religion  strike  out  clear, 
bright  sparks." 


MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS.  231 

Claudius,  however,  was  more  than  Man  of  Letters. 
His  instincts  and  tastes  were  purely  literary  ;  his 
life  was  a  literary  venture ;  but  the  literature  was 
the  noblest.  He  was  a  sturdy  fighter  for  truth  in 
an  age  when  doubt  was  put  forward  as  a  healthy 
condition  of  mind.  He  loved,  and  searched,  and  bat- 
tled for  it  with  a  passionate  devotion.  And  it  was 
the  one  absolute  truth,  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus. 
To  this  end  he  wrote  with  a  unity  of  purpose  that 
underlies  the  most  humorous  and  playful  of  his 
utterances,  and  gives  his  papers  a  completeness  that 
so  fragmentary  and  often  whimsical  a  writer  could 
never  otherwise  have  attained.  From  the  opening 
of  the  Messenger,  his  deep  loving  reverence  for  the 
Bible  shows  itself  in  contrast  as  much  to  the  dog- 
matic orthodoxy  as  the  rude  unbelief  of  his  time. 
"  From  my  youth  up,"  he  says,  "  I  have  delighted  to 
read  in  the  Bible.  Every  word  that  proceeded  out 
of  the  mouth  of  Christ,  every  movement  of  his  hand 
— ^his  very  shoe-latchet,  are  sacred  to  me:"  while 
over  the  very  portal  of  his  life  as  Man  of  Letters 
there  are  these  words  :  "  Most  of  all,  I  love  St.  John. 
There  is  somethino^  altogfether  wonderful  in  him. 
Twilight-dusk  and  night,  and  the  quick  start  of  the 
lightning   through   it !      Soft   evening    clouds,   and 


232  MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS. 

behind  them  the  gTeat  full  moon  bodied  forth. 
There  is  something  so  pensive,  and  lofty,  and  fore- 
seeing, that  one  can  never  have  enough.  When  I 
read  in  John,  I  always  feel  as  if  I  saw  him  before 
me,  lying  on  the  Master's  breast  at  the  Last  Supper ; 
as  if  his  angel  held  me  the  light,  and  at  certain 
passages  fell  upon  my  neck  and  whispered  in  my 
ear."  He  would  often  pause  from  his  chapter,  in 
silent  tears,  and  fold  his  hands  and  pray.  The 
orthodox  partisan  said  the  Bible  was  tiTie  ;  would 
prove  it,  as  his  old  teacher  would  prove  a  student 
not  to  be  a  rhinoceros.  Claudius  felt  it,  and  spoke 
only  as  he  felt.  Religion  which  "  is  not  in  shallow 
dogmatics,  nor  unbelief,  nor  among  the  degenerate 
sons  and  whitened  sepulchres  of  faith,  which  is  not 
of  the  pure  reason,  nor  orthodoxy,  nor  monachism" 
was  to  him  for  children.  And  in  the  spirit  of  a 
child  he  searched  the  Scriptures.  Take,  for  in- 
stance, his  comments  on  the  Lord's  Prayer  : — 

"  When  I  am  to  pray  it,  I  think  first  of  my 
father,  and  how  good  he  was  to  me  while  he  lived, 
and  how  willingly  he  gave  to  me.  And  then  I  put 
the  whole  world  before  me  as  my  Father's  house,  and 
all  the  people  in  Europe,  Asia,  Africa,  and  America 
are  then  my  brothers  and  sisters  in  my  thoughts  : 


MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS.  233 

and  God  sits  in  heaven  on  a  golden  throne,  His 
right  hand  stretched  forth  over  the  sea  and  even  to 
the  ends  of  the  earth,  and  His  left  hand  full  of  salva- 
tion and  good,  and  the  tops  of  the  mountains  smoke, 
and  then  I  begin  : — 

Our  Father,  ivlio  art  in  heaven, 
Halloiued  be  thy  name. 

I  do  not  yet  quite  understand  that.  It  may  be 
the  Jews  knew  certain  mysteries  of  the  name  of  God. 
I  let  that  alone,  and  only  wish  that  the  thought  of 
God,  and  every  step  by  which  we  could  reach  to 
know  Him,  were  above  everything  else  great  and 
holy  to  me  and  all  men. 

Thy  Jdngclom  come. 

At  this  I  think  upon  myself,  what  currents  drive 
me  hither  and  thither,  and  how  one  thing  and  ano- 
ther rules  me,  and  that  it  is  all  vexation  of  spirit, 
and  I  never  find  a  green  twig.  And  then  I  think 
how  good  it  would  be  if  God  would  make  an  end  of 
all  strife,  and  rule  in  me. 

-   Thy  ivill  he  done  on  earth,  as  it  is  in  heaven. 

At  this  I  see  heaven,  with  the  holy  angels  who  do 
His  will  with  joy,  and  that  never   a  sorrow  vexes 


234  MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS. 

them,  and  they  rejoice  night  and  day ;  and   then  I 
think  :  if  it  were  also  so  upon  earth  1 

Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread. 
Everybody  knows  what  daily  bread  is,  and  that 
we  must  eat  as  long  as  we  are  in  the  world,  and 
that  it  is  a  right  pleasant  thing.  And  I  think 
upon  it.  And  my  children  come  into  my  mind, 
for  they  are  so  ready  to  eat,  and  run  so  quickly 
and  heartily  to  the  dish.  Then  I  pray  that  our 
dear  God  will  always  give  us  something  to  eat. 

And  forgive  us  our  debts,  as  we  forgive  our 
debtors. 

It  is  hard  to  suffer  wrong,  and  revenge  is  sweet 

to  man.     That  is  my  own  experience,  and  I  could 

have  a  great  desire    to    revenge  ;  but  then  I  seem 

to  see  the  wicked  servant  out    of  the  gospel ;  and 

I  have  no  heart  for  it,  and  I  determine  to  forgive 

my  fellow-servant,  and  will  never  say  a  word  to  him 

about  the  hundred  pence. 

And  lead  us  not  into  temptation. 
Here    I    think    of   examples    of   every    kind,    of 
people    who,    under    different    circumstances,    have 
quitted  and  turned  away  from  the  good,  and  that  it 
would  be  no  better  with  me. 


MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS.  235 

But  deliver  us  from  evil. 

Temptations  are  still  in  my  mind  here,  and  tliat 
a  man  can  be  so  easily  led  astray,  and  wander  from 
the  right  path.  At  the  same  time  I  think  of  the 
burden  of  life,  of  consumption  and  old  age,  of 
childbirth  and  gangrene,  and  idiotcy,  and  of  the 
thousand  pains  and  sorrows  that  are  in  the  world, 
and  whereby  poor  human  beings  are  plagued  and 
martp'ed,  and  no  one  can  help  them.  And  you 
will  find,  Andrew,  if  the  tears  have  not  come  into 
your  e3^es  before,  that  here  they  will  come  of  a 
certainty,  and  one  has  such  pitiful  longings,  and  is 
as  sorrowful  and  cast  down  as  if  there  were  no 
help.  Yet  must  one  be  of  good  courage,  and  lay 
the  finger  on  the  lips,  and  march  on  as  if  in 
triumph  : 

For  thine  is  the  kingdom,  and  the  power, 
and  the  glory,  for  ever.     Amen." 

With  what  nawet^,  and  what  singular  depth  and 
accuracy  this  is  written  ;  a  strictly  personal  comment 
in  which  the  writer  takes  you  into  his  confidence ; 
nothing  formal  or  elaborated,  but  only  a  personal 
experience ;  yet  where  else  in  the  same  compass 
should  we  look  for  so  much  poetry  of  feeling  and 


236  MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS. 

exquisite  perception  of  truth  ?  This  childlike  spirit 
he  carried  into  the  great  religious,  or  rather  irre- 
ligious controversies  of  his  time,  and  met  the  doubts 
and  inuendoes  and  assaults  of  the  sceptic  with  the 
positive  strength  of  a  man  of  faith.  Religion  was  to 
him  a  personal  matter,  and  had  its  surest  ground 
and  reality  in  the  personal  relation  to  God.  It  was 
out  of  this  that  his  appeal  went  forth,  and  it  was 
in  this  that  his  real  power  lay.  His  relation  to  his 
time, — to  its  scientific  theology,  and  philosophical 
doubting,  and  incipient  rationalism, — may  be  seen 
in  such  passages  as  these  : — 

"  Certain  deistical  gentlemen  and  Chinese  wise- 
acres have  equipped  a  host  of  objections  and  doubts 
out  of  Aristotle's  Organon,  Count  Welling's  Salz- 
lehre,  Descartes'  Mathematics,  Wolf  en's  Experi- 
mental Physics,  Geriken's  Air-Pump  Theories,  etc., 
and  have  advanced  to  make  a  breach  in  the  Mosaic 
cosmogony.  Light,  for  example,  should  not  have 
appeared  on  the  first  day,  and  the  sun  three  days 
too  late ;  grass  and  trees  should  not  have  grown 
on  the  third  day,  when  there  was  no  sky  till  the 
fourth,  and  so  on.  And  certain  theological  gentle- 
men and  broad-minded  philosophers  have  raised 
up  a  host  of  answers  and  solutions  against  them, 


MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS.  237 

even  out  of  Geriken's  Air-Pump  Theories,  Wolfen's 
Experimental  Physics,  Descartes'  Mathematics,  Count 
Welling's  Salzlehre,  Aristotle's  Organon,  etc.,  and 
thereby  have  made  the  breach  yet  wider,  seeing  that 
the  Mosaic  cosmogony  is  not  measured  off  according 
to  Aristotle's  Organon,  Geriken's  Air-Pump  Theo- 
ries, Descartes'  Mathematics,  Count  Welling's  Salz- 
lehre,  nor  Wolfen's  Experimental  Physics,  and  there- 
fore is  neither  to  be  assailed  nor  defended  by  these. 
But  if  the  Mosaic  cosmogony  is  to  be  justified  by 
none  of  these,  it  is  not  the  fault  of  the  lock  but 
the  locksmith.  It  needs  no  such  artificial  justifica- 
tion, and  soars  away  on  the  wings  of  the  morning 
high  above  all  objections  and  doubts,  yea,  and 
triumphs." 

"  Some  famous  learned  men  have  thought  out 
another  plan  of  Nature.  Species,  they  say,  are  only 
resting-points  and  steps,  where  Nature  rests  and 
collects  herself  in  order  to  go  on  further,  and  always 
from  the  lower  to  the  higher  and  more  developed, 
so  that  an  oyster  ends  in  a  crocodile,  and  a  gnat  in 
a  serpent,  and  from  the  most  developed  of  the  lower 
animals  come  at  last  men  and  angels.  This  is  put 
forward  cleverly  enough  ;  only  that  the  first  and  chief 


238  MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS. 

argument  against  it  is,  that  it  is  not  true.  So  little 
does  Nature  advance  from  one  species  to  another,  that 
she  never  alters  the  same  species  or  makes  it  more 
perfect.  The  autumn  spider  spun  its  web  among 
the  Komans  in  the  same  wonderful  mathematical 
form,  with  peripheries,  radius,  and  centre,  and 
already  ^lian  remarks  that  it  does  its  work  without 
Euclid.  He  relates,  moreover,  that  it  sits  in  am- 
bush in  the  centre  of  its  web,  as  we  see  it  sit  after 
more  than  a  thousand  years." 

*^  Em'peroT  of  Japan.  As  I  hear  the  world  is 
everywhere  the  same,  of  course,  then,  you  don't 
want  in  Europe  for  objections  and  doubts  against 
religion  ? 

AsTRUS.  Mr.  Lessing  recently  gave  to  the  public 
various  doubts  of  an  anonymous  writer,  some  of 
which  are  truly  learned  and  clear.  He  has  refuted 
them,  however. 

E.  Mr.  Lessing  belongs  to  the  bench  of  philoso- 
phers ? 

A.  I  should  say  that  your  Majesty  had  better  set 
him  on  his  own  chair.  The  common  benches  do  not 
suit  him,  or  rather  he  does  not  suit  the  benches. 

E.  How  has  he  managed  with  those  doubts  ? 


MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS.  239 

A.  In  the  usual  way.  He  that  is  right  will 
maintain  the  right.  He  ought  to  maintain  it,  and 
dare  not  shun  the  open  field.  So  Mr.  Lessing  lets 
the  doubts  march  on  with  upper  and  under  arms, 
and  the  man  with  the  truth  marches  against  them. 
But  as  a  troop  of  religious  doubts  is  like  a  rattle- 
snake, and  falls  upon  the  first  unarmed  man,  he 
will  not  allow  that,  and  therefore  he  puts  a  muzzle 
upon  every  doubt ;  something  to  gnaw  at,  until  a 
learned  and  understanding  theologian  is  equipped. 
And,  says  he,  we  must  meet  the  foe  honourably  : 
and  no  one  is  to  cry  victory  because  he  has  fired 
off  an  old  rusty  musket  with  powder  only ;  and  no 
one  is  to  take  up  more  ground  than  he  can  defend, 
and  than  the  foot  of  religion  needs. 

U.  Mr.  Lessing  pleases  me.  Do  you  think  he 
would  care  to  come  to  Japan  ? 

A.  I  am  not  aware.  Sire ;  your  Majesty  at  least 
must  make  the  conditions  very  minute  and  con- 
clusive, for  he  must  see  everything  clearly  with  his 
own  eyes. 

E.  It  seems  the  refutation  is  not  of  much  im- 
portance ? 

A.  Of  none  at  all,  Sire.  By  the  help  of  Mr. 
Lessing's  electric  spark  I  seem  to  see  Religion  as  a 


240  MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS. 

medicine,  and  the  doubter  as  Dr.  Peter,  and  the 
refuter  as  Dr.  Paul,  and  they  quarrel  over  the 
medicine  as  it  lies  before  them  on  the  table.  If 
I  stood  sick  and  wretched  beside  the  table  and  the 
two  doctors,  and  would  willingly  be  relieved,  and 
Dr.  Paul  was  right,  yet  I  would  not  be  cured  if  I 
did  not  take  the  medicine  ;  and  if  I  did  take  it,  and 
it  were  good,  I  would  be  cured,  even  though  Dr. 
Peter  were  right.  So  the  maintaining  of  what  is 
right  is  only  for  the  gentlemen  who  can  look  on 
and  listen  ;  but  the  taking  of  the  medicine  is  the 
real  business ;  and  one  patient,  Sire,  who  was  cured, 
would  prove  more  for  those  gentlemen  who  hsten, 
than  a  hundred  victories  of  Paul  over  Peter." 

Should  it  be  inquired  what  was  the  secret  of 
the  influence  he  wielded  as  a  Christian  thinker, 
it  was  just  this,  that  he  was  a  Christian  thinker. 
He  was  content  to  be  that,  and  his  contemporaries 
were  not.  He  clung  to  positive  truth,  not  as  a 
bulwark  against  infidelity,  but  as  the  life  and  joy 
of  his  own  heart.  The  rest  were  looking  at  it 
critically,  scientifically,  poetically,  as  men  of  taste, 
and  learning,  and  feeling.  He  looked  at  it  as  his 
possession,  of  which  if  a  man  robbed  him,  he  might 


MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS.  241 

as  soon  rob  him  of  life.  There  were  certainly 
greater  men  in  his  day,  though  not  so  much  greater 
as  his  modesty  made  him  believe ;  men  who  specu- 
lated and  wrote  on  the  questions  that  came  up  in 
his  papers  ;  yet  there  is  not  one  that  has  left  the 
same  healthy  influence.  Lessing  opened  a  door  to 
doubt  which  he  was  not  willing  to  close  ;  Herder 
preached  himself  into  an  unconscious  pantheism ; 
Jacobi  was  philosophically  neutral;  Stolberg  fol- 
lowed sentiment  into  the  Church  of  Rome. 

Claudius  held  on  by  Christ  as  by  a  rock  ;  wrote 
letters  to  Andrew  on  the  miracles;  expounded  Chris- 
tianity to  his  children  ;  put  forward  essays  on 
prayer ;  and  each  new  volume  became  more  tho- 
roughly imbued  with  Christian  thought.  We  know- 
little  of  the  way  by  which  he  was  led  to  Christ  a.s 
a  Saviour.  Hamann  and  Lavater  seem  to  have  had 
much  power  over  him  at  the  time,  and  he  turns 
back  to  them  with  thankfulness.  It  would  seem 
he  had  to  pass  through  much  personal  struggle, 
and  "to  wander  in  defiles  and  labyrinths  before 
reaching  the  doors  of  peace."  It  would  seem  also 
that  from  this  time  old  friends  separated  from  him, 
dropped  at  least  the  constancy  of  their  intercourse. 
As  years  rolled  on  he  kept  more  within  the  family 


242  MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS. 

life  at  Wandsbeck,  where  the  days  passed  in  the 
cheerfulest  simplicity.  One  daughter,  Christiana, 
died ;  another,  Caroline,  was  married  to  Perthes 
the  bookseller.  Of  Christiana  he  has  touchingly 
written : 

"  A  star  rose  in  the  sky, 

And  flung  mild  radiance  down, 
And  softly  shone  and  high, 
Softly  and  sweetly  down. 

* '  I  knew  the  veiy  spot 

Of  sky  that  held  its  light, 

Each  sundown  had  I  sought, 

And  found  it  every  night. 

"  The  star  is  sunk  and  gone  ; 
I  search  the  sky  in  vain  : 
The  other  stars  come  one  by  one. 
But  it  comes  never  again. " 

Caroline's  life  is  before  the  world,  and  has  been,  and 
will  long  be,  a  strength  and  comfort  to  many  hearts. 
In  those  noble  womanly  letters  that  are  the  greatest 
charm  of  the  Life  of  Perthes,  she  has  revealed  the 
genuine  force  and  tenderness  of  that  Wandsbeck 
home.  Another  daughter  was  married  to  young 
Jacobi.  And  while  his  family  was  scattering  from 
him,  friends  were  passing  away.  Schonbom,  it  is 
true,  had  returned,  a  sluggish  old  man,  wrapped  for 
most  of  the   day  in   a   dressing-gown,  not  of  the 


MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS.  243 

cleanest,  or  standing  in  the  doorway  in  long  loose 
overcoat ;  silent  as  if  in  a  dream,  or  rude  of  speecli, 
with  rough  Low-Saxon  idiom ;  talking  the  boldest 
and  grandest  thoughts  ;  "  the  most  thorough  sceptic 
that  ever  existed;"  perfectly  friendless,  and  cast 
among  a  new  generation  of  literary  men ;  a  nuisance 
on  the  whole,  but  with  a  kingly  mind,  and  so  reluc- 
tant to  die  that  he  absolutely  refused  for  more  than 
a  week,  shocking  all  the  proprieties  of  medicine. 
Claudius  could  not  have  much  intercourse  with  him. 
Schlosser,  Lavater,  Klopstock,  Herder,  Princess  Gal- 
litzin,  and  young  Runge,  the  painter,  were  already 
gone.     He  might  have  said  with  Wordsworth  :— 

"  Like  clouds  that  rake  the  mountain  summits, 
Or  waves  that  own  no  curbing  hand, 
How  fast  has  brother  followed  brother 
From  sunshine  to  the  sunless  laud  ! 

"  Yet  I,  whose  lids,  from  infant  slumber, 
Were  earlier  raised,  remain  to  hear 
A  timid  voice  that  asks  in  whispers, 
"Who  next  will  drop  and  disappear  ?" 

He  did  not  long  survive  the  trials  of  the  French 
occupation.  On  New  Year's  Day,  1 814,  he  published 
a  Lay  Sermon  to  the  German  people.  ''Sorrowful 
and  anxious  ones,"  it  concluded,  "who  weep  over 
your  loss,  for   your  sons,  your   friends,  your  well- 

E  2 


244  MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS. 

loved,  do  not  despair ;  and  if  the  comfort  that  they 
have  suffered  and  died  for  freedom  and  fatherland, 
cannot  comfort  you,  there  is  in  Jesus  Christ  a  pro- 
spect which  can  raise  you  over  death  and  the  grave, 
and  all  that  is  earthly,  and  thoroughly  dry  your 
tears."  Next  New  Year's  Day  he  lay  on  his  death- 
bed in  Hamburg.  "  I  have  all  my  life,"  he  said, 
"  reflected  on  these  hours,  and  now  they  are  come." 
He  was  quiet  and  joyful,  and  retained  all  his  ori- 
ginality and  peculiarities.  He  w^as  constantly  in 
prayer.  One  afternoon  it  was.  Lead  ime  not  into 
temptation,  hut  deliver  me  from  evil.  "An  hour 
later  he  said  Good-night  several  times,  and  in  the 
moment  of  departure,  he  opened  his  eyes,  and  looked 
lovingly  upon  his  wife  and  children."  "  The  expres- 
sion of  the  whole  person,"  writes  Perthes  imme- 
diately after,  "  is  still  very  striking ;  there  is  an  air 
of  weariness,  as  if  he  were  satisfied  and  pleased  to 
have  done  with  the  earthly ;  while  the  brow  retained 
its  beauty  and  power,  and  the  mouth  all  the  fulness 
of  affection,  w^hich  characterised  them  in  life.  The 
end  of  this  man  was  indeed  great  and  noble." 

The  calm  of  that  awaited  death  is  in  harmony 
with  the  rest.  The  shrewdness,  and  irony,  and  whim 
are  stilled  in  the  silent  and  thankful  communion 


MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS.  245 

with  God,  and   the  veil  is   drawn   softly  over   the 
sickly  face  and  the  "  heavenly  blue  eye,"  over  five- 
and-seventy  years  of  a  life  that  was  not  without  its 
harshness,    and   coarse,   strong    lines,   but   that,   as 
quaint,   original,   sincere,   devout,   was   unsurpassed. 
Age  had  ripened  his  Christian  faculties,  and  made 
him  only  more  decided  for  the  truth.     "  You  write, 
Andrew,  that  it  makes  your  hair  grey  to  see  Christ 
denied  and  despised — you,  dear,  righteous  soul ;  and 
well  it  may;  but  whoso  carries  grey  hairs  for  Christ 
carries  a  crown."     "  Whoever,"  he  wrote  again,  "  will 
not  believe  in  Christ,  must  just  see  how  to  get  on 
without  Him.     You  and  I  cannot."     He  translated 
Fen^lon  in  his  latter  days,  grew  somewhat  mystical 
about  the  inner  life,  dwelt  upon  the  perfect  union  of 
the  soul  with    Christ,  and  wrote  so   earnestly  that 
men  said  the  old  Messenger  had  got  tiresome.     To 
many  he  was  scarce  intelligible.     They  had  relished 
the  Man  of  Letters ;  they  grew  weary  and  dull  over 
the  Man  of  God.     Often  Novalis  is  unintelUgible  for 
the  same  reason.     When  he  rises  into  the  sphere  of 
religious  feeling,  readers  and  critics,  and  very  friends 
apologise  for  his  obscurity.     Knowledge  of  the  intri- 
cacies of  German  thought  is  not  enough  to  interpret 
him,  though  that  impression  is  left  by  a  recent  and 


246  MATTHEW  CLAUDIUS. 

otherwise  fair  writer  on  Guessers  at  Truth.  Know- 
ledge  of  spiritual  life  is  more  essential;  sympathy 
with  spiritual  thought.  And  Novalis  has  been  un- 
fortunate in  being  edited  and  reviewed,  and  intro- 
duced to  us  in  England  by  those  who  frankly  dis- 
avow a  power  of  spiritual  perception  in  any  positive 
Christian  sense.  It  is  for  the  Christian  thinker  he 
has  the  profoundest  interest,  and  to  him  he  will 
yield  the  richest  fruits.  And  it  will  be  found  that, 
where  Claudius  repels  the  mere  literary  seeker,  there 
are  hidden,  but  easily-yielded  treasures  for  the 
spiritual  mind. 

Wandsbeck  still  draws  an  occasional  pilgrim  to  its 
shrine.  The  Messenger  has  passed  into  other  lands ; 
his  writings  flourish  in  a  seventh  edition  in  his  own. 
There  is  not  a  German  student  that  does  not  sing 
his  songs ;  there  is  not  a  Holstein  peasant  that  does 
not  hum  his  pleasant  rhymes.  But  deeper  than  all, 
he  has  struck  root  in  the  religious  heart  of  Germany, 
and  survives  as  the  simple-minded  Man  of  Letters 
who  was  not  ashamed  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ.    ' 


DE.   CHALMEES  AT  ELBEEFELD. 


LBERFELD,  to  most  people,  is  suggestive 
of  Turkey-red  ;  and,  no  doubt,  Turkey- 
red  has  everytliing  to  do  with  it.  It 
was  a  notable  place,  however,  before  that  excellent 
dye  spread  its  reputation ;  and  is  likely  to  remain 
so  whether  the  dye  holds  or  not.  For  the  beauty 
of  its  neighbourhood  and  its  picturesque  contrasts 
alone,  it  is  worth  halting  at  longer  than  between  two 
trains.  It  lies  in  a  charming  valley  of  the  Berg  ; 
and,  fifty  years  ago,  before  the  factory  time,  could 
boast  one  of  the  brightest  and  clearest  of  streams  in 
the  merry  little  Wupper.  Pleasant  heights,  shaded 
with  masses  of  wood,  cluster  round  it.  Away  be- 
yond them,  the  river  winds  between  the  heights, 
and   below    the    woods,   and    laving    the    greenest 


248  DE.  CEALMEBS  AT  ELBEBFELD. 

meadows.  Tempting  openings  stretch  up  into  the 
hills;  and  there  are  gloomy,  grotesque-looking  ra- 
vines, with  curious  caves  scooped  in  their  sides — 
caves  with  real  legends,  not  of  the  Rhine  stamp, 
but  akin  to  those  that  linger  by  the  heather  braes 
of  Scotland,  of  Christian  men  in  hiding,  and  sore 
peril  of  life,  and  of  grand  hymns  they  made,  that 
echo  through  all  Germany  to  this  day.  Moreover, 
about  the  beginning  of  the  century  many  eyes 
were  turned  hopefully  to  the  quiet  church,  where 
the  elder  Krummacher  declared  the  gospel  with  a 
fresh,  faithful  simplicity,  that  startled  the  careless 
Christian  world ;  and  many  hearts  were  praying 
that  the  light  God  had  kindled  there  might  not 
be  put  out ;  and  strangers  came  into  the  vale  to 
hear  the  famous  preacher,  and  carry  with  them 
the  joy  of  his  good  tidings.  And  ever  since,  through 
the  changes  of  its  population  and  character,  the 
vale  has  maintained  its  faith,  and  is  among  the 
foremost  places  on  the  Continent  for  the  spread 
and  power  of  the  kingdom  of  God.  It  was  in 
Elberfeld  that  the  first  German  missionary  society 
was  formed,  and  that  good  old  Hermann  Peltzer, 
at  three  score  and  six,  set  himself  hopefully  to  learn 
English,  that  he  might  publish  translations  of  the 


BB.   CHALMERS  AT  ELBEBFELD.  249 

tidings  from  English  missionaries.  And  at  the 
next  turn  of  the  river  there  is  Barmen,  with  its 
mission-houses  and  seminary,  and  famous  mission- 
paper,  and  forty-one  missionaries  —  the  greatest 
missionary .  organisation  of  Germany  ;  and  from 
which,  at  present,  two  daring  men  are  going  out 
into  the  more  hidden  heart  of  Africa,  to  teach  the 
newly  discovered  populations  there.  But,  unde- 
niably the  leading  interest  is  Turkey-red  ;  and  the 
little  Wupper,  that  threw  out  its  merry  invita- 
tion to  all  the  world,  has  been  taken  somewhat 
roughly  at  its  word,  and  comes,  coppery  and  hot 
and  odorous,  out  of  the  dyeing-vats,  and  can  no 
longer  hear  its  own  voice  for  the  roar  of  the  great 
factories  along  its  banks.  The  town  is  like  a 
hasty-grown  boy,  that  shows  awkwardly  in  lately 
proper  but  now  ill-fitting  clothes.  A  few  hand- 
some streets  cleave  long  rows  of  narrow  passages, 
through  which  the  current  of  business  persists  in 
flowing.  Odd  little  lanes  wind  over  the  hills  and 
throucrh  the  hollows,  and  cross  and  recross  into  an 
extraordinary  network,  where  the  stranger  is  left 
as  in  a  labyrinth  till  some  kindly  opening  reveals 
an  escape.  He  emerges  with  a  confused  cricking 
of  shuttles  in  his   ear,  and  a  very  distinct  sense  of 


250  DB.   CHALMEBS  AT  ELBERFELD. 

small  children  and  a  dense  population.  The 
houses,  with  their  wooden  framework,  running  in 
fantastic  pattern  over  the  whitewash,  are  bewilder- 
ing enough  ;  doubly  so,  one  somehow  feels,  when 
weavers  are  plying  their  calling  in  every  room  ; 
but  they  look  comfortable,  and  the  little  fry  are 
healthy  and  active,  and  there  is  a  good-tempered 
quiet  civility  everjrwhere,  that  is  not  often  met  in 
our  narrow  lanes  at  home.  Elberfeld,  in  fact,  is 
now  a  wealthy,  bustling  manufacturing  city,  that 
has  multiplied  its  population  often  since  1800 ;  and 
Turkey-red  has  been  at  the  bottom  of  all  this,  and 
also  of  that  state  of  things  which  required  the 
vigorous  interposition  of  the  author  of  "  Civic 
Economy  of  Large  Towns." 

For  with. wealth  there  came  poverty,  and  flung 
its  shadow  along  the  alleys,  and  below  the  rich 
men's  houses,  and  out  upon  the  broad  sunshine 
and  wide  as  the  city  reached,  and  fast  as  it  grew, 
so  wide  and  fast  did  the  shadow.  The  town  is 
always  absorbing  the  country — its  nerve  and  fresh- 
ness— its  incapacity  and  need  as  well.  And  as 
weeds  thrive  best  on  untilled  lands,  so  does  poverty 
reach  its  rankest  growth  in  the  neglected  haunts 
of    city    crowds.       Manufacturing     cities^    besides, 


DR.  CHALMERS  AT  ELBERFELB.  251 

have  a  special  poverty  of  their  own.  Plenty  of 
work  draws  plenty  of  hands  ;  but  orders  may  stop 
with  scarce  a  warning,  and  dull  times  set  in,  and 
the  factory  works  at  half-hours  or  at  half-power, 
and  then  the  strain  begins,  and  there  is  pawning 
and  debt,  and  by  the  time  trade  revives  there  are 
some  who  are  too  far  down  to  rise.  As  often  as 
this  is  repeated,  some  heads  sink  with  the  struggle, 
and  cry  below  the  smooth  surface  of  the  town's  life. 
The  poor  have  no  monopoly  of  high-class  virtues  ; 
they  are  no  more  likely  than  the  rich  to  be 
thrifty,  and  prudent,  and  patient,  and  made  of  the 
firm,  stern  stuff  of  martyrs.  When  the  hard  day 
breaks,  it  is  not  many  who  are  ready  for  it.  It  is 
very  painful,  no  doubt  it  is  very  blameable  ;  but 
before  casting  stones  at  them,  it  may  be  well  at 
least  to  spend  a  thought  or  two  upon  one's  own 
thrift,  and  prudence,  and  preparation  for  reverse,  and 
to  ask  whether  one  has  ever  taught  his  neighbours 
to  do  better,  or  has  reflected  much  upon  the  matter 
until  he  was  told  of  a  bare,  fireless  room,  and  naked 
children,  and  then  began  to  mutter  something  about 
"  their  own  fault,"  and  "  the  poor-house." 

Elberfeld,  with  its   rows  of  workshops,  and  fac- 
tory  roar,  has,  in    addition   to    its    other   poor,  its 


252  BB.  CHALMERS  AT  ELBEBFELD. 

poor  of  this  stamp — poor  first  by  being  thrown  out 
of  work  and  into  beggary,  and  poor  by  being 
sprung  from  these,  brought  up  among  the  influ- 
ences and  woful  habits  of  poverty.  Charitable,  as 
great  cities  are  after  their  fashion,  it  was  forward 
to  relieve  them.  Alms  were  freely  given  ;  poor- 
rates  were  freely  paid.  It  prospered,  spread  up 
and  down  the  Wupper,  and  over  the  country  walks 
of  the  old  grey-headed  villagers,  added  field  to  field 
and  trade  to  trade,  and  still  the  poor  kept  even 
pace,  and  the  poor-rates  were  freely  paid.  At 
length  murmurs  rose.  In  1847,  1848,  1849,  its 
pauperism  cost  the  city  £17,000  "per  annum ;  its 
population  was  not  50,000,  and  the  rate  was  up 
to  47s.  a-head.  The  burden  was  pressing  beyond 
endurance.  Every  year  it  was  heavier  and  the 
ratio  of  pauper  increase  was  far  beyond  that  of 
population.  The  poor-rate  struck  at  the  beginning 
of  the  year  never  covered  the  necessity  ;  supple- 
mentary rates  became  the  rule.  Yet  high  as  the 
tax  was  pitched,  it  proved  futile.  The  more  this 
hungry  pauperism  was  fed,  the  more  ravenous  it 
turned  ;  like  a  diseased  stomach,  it  created  its  own 
appetite  ;  and  the  citizens  felt  alarmed  lest  all  their 
prosperous  earnings  should  be  drawn  into  its  yawn- 


DB.  CHALMERS  AT  ELBERFELD.  253 

ing  mouth.  Was  trade  declining  ?  On  the  con- 
trary, it  was  steadily  progressing,  money  was  more 
abundant,  new  streets  were  rising,  strangers  re- 
marked on  the  rapidity  of  the  improvements.  Were 
the  funds  mismanaged?  That  was  out  of  the 
question  ;  the  greatest  sufferers  were  on  the  ma- 
nagement, the  system  was  well  worked,  the  officers 
were  rigid  and  careful.  Was  the  system  at  fault? 
There  were  some  who  made  bold  to  say  it  was 
wrong  and  dangerous  from  the  foundation. 

At  the  beginning  of  this  century,  when  Krum- 
macher  was  preaching  and  Peltzer  was  puzzling  over 
his  English,  Elberfeld  was  a  simple  country  town. 
The  few  poor  wei-e  supported  by  voluntary  contribu- 
tions dispensed  through  ecclesiastical  boards.  Then, 
as  time  rolled  on,  beggars  multiplied.  They  were 
like  a  plague  in  the  streets  and  at  the  doors. 

**  To  see  the  townfolk  suffer  so 
From  vermin,  was  a  pity. " 

And  the  townsfolk  grew  uneasy,  and  whether  or  no, 
like  the  rat-bitten  population  of  Hamelin,  they  came 
to  the  town-hall  with  a 

"  Rouse  up,  sirs  !  give  your  brains  a  racking, 
To  find  tlie  remedy  we're  lacking, 
Or,  sure  as  fate,  we'll  send  you  packing  ! 


254  DB.  CHALMERS  AT  ELBEEFELD. 

At  wliich  the  mayor  and  corporation 
Quakes  with  a  mighty  consternation  " — 

we  are  ignorant ;  but  the  corporation  felt  an  emer- 
gency, and,  for  want  of  a  "pied  piper,"  determined 
to  form  a  civic  aid  to  help  the  ecclesiastical :  the 
town  collected,  and  the  Church  dispensed.  Then 
there  came  disputes,  debt,  and  the  year  1816.  It 
was  a  year  of  extraordinary  distress,  dearness,  and 
idleness ;  and  the  ecclesiastical  boards,  though  of 
three  confessions,  proposed  to  their  great  credit  to 
take  entire  charge  of  the  poor.  After  twelve 
months'  experiment  the  scheme  broke  down,  and 
a  plan  of  civic  machinery  was  introduced ;  poor- 
rates  were  levied,  poor-law  guardians  appointed, 
inspectors,  relieving  officers,  and  all  the  other  officers 
set  in  motion,  and  its  machinery  went,  as  machinists 
say,  sweetly.  The  change  was  going  on  elsewhere, 
over  entire  Germany.  The  Church,  which  embodies 
in  itself  the  fittest  poor-law,  was  careless,  and  proved 
incapable.  It  was  slowly  thrust  aside,  tolerated 
perhaps  with  a  seat  at  the  new  boards,  while  the 
civic  powers  took  the  matter  into  their  own  hands, 
until  now  there  is  a  general  approximation  to  our 
own  poor-laws  and  our  own  powerless  extravagance. 
It  was  this  civic  system  which  some  in  Elberfeld 


DR.  CHALMERS  AT  ELBERFELD,  255 

began  to  whisper  was  in  fault.  They  pointed  to  the 
amazing  increase  of  taxes,  and  to  the  yet  more 
amazing  increase  of  pauperism :  they  showed  that 
the  system  worked  admirably  as  a  system,  but  that 
if  it  went  on,  bankruptcy  hung  over  no  very  distant 
future.  Gradually  the  corporation  shared  their 
opinion ;  proposals  which  came  to  nothing  were 
made  to  the  ecclesiastical  bodies ;  and  with  this 
effoii}  the  people  resigned  themselves  to  an  inevit- 
able fate.  It  was  then  that  among  one  or  two  clear- 
sighted citizens  such  a  plan  was  matured,  which, 
carried  into  the  happiest  effect,  has  made  Elberfeld 
famous  in  the  civic  economy  of  the  Continent,  and 
a  hopeful  lesson  for  our  civic  economy  at  home. 

Those  who  have  read  the  "  Memoirs  of  Dr.  Chal- 
mers " — and  who  has  not  ? — will  remember  that 
most  brilliant  and  most  sad  chapter  which  records 
the  success  and  failure  at  St.  John's.  In  this,  and 
in  so  much  else,  far  beyond  his  time,  and  following 
the  instincts  of  a  true  and  gi'eat  heart  that  was 
sanctified  by  the  Spirit  of  God  and  inhabited  by  His 
wisdom,  Dr.  Chalmers  determined  to  establish  his 
principles  in  the  face  of  ever}'-  resistance  and  scorn. 
In  a  parish  of  10,000  he  found  an  annual  poor-tax 
of  £1400.     Four  years  after  his  induction  he  could 


256  BB.  CHALMERS  AT  ELBERFELD. 

say  that  the  expenditure  was  £190,  and  the  pau- 
perism vastly  less.  When  eighteen  years  had  passed, 
the  average  expenditure  was  found  to  have  been  £30 
to  every  1000  people  against  £140  to  every  1000 
people  when  he  began.  There  the  matter  dropped, 
but  the  truth  and  the  protest  remain  the  same,  and 
whoever  has  the  confidence  and  manliness  to  try  will 
find  the  result  unchanged  still.  People  were  familiar 
once  with  the  mode  by  which  he  wrought,  but  it  has 
so  long  slipped  away  into  the  timid  region  of  the 
impracticable,  that  few  can  talk  of  it  now.  It 
would  be  out  of  place  to  say  more  about  it  here. 
than  that  its  chief  points  were  the  thorough  personal 
visitation  of  the  parish  by  the  deacons,  the  proper 
selection  and  conduct  of  these  deacons,  the  adminis- 
tration of  help  through  them  instead  of  through 
parish  officials.  How  far  his  writings  on  this 
favourite  subject  may  have  influenced  Mr.  Yon  der 
Heydt,  Mr.  Lischke,  and  others  in  Germany,  it  is 
not  very  pertinent  to  inquire.  Their  reputation  in 
that  country  has  been  considerable,  the  course  of 
the  Inner  Mission  has  of  late  diredted  more  atten- 
tion to  them,  and  it  is  probable  enough  that  besides 
the  indirect  influence  of  well-known  opinions  upon 
the  general  intelligence  of  society,  Mr.  Lischke  may 


BR.  CHALMEBS  AT  ELBERFELD.  257 

owe  much  to  the  personal  study  of  these  writings. 
This,  however,  is  certain  and  gratifying,  that  the 
parochial  system  of  St.  John's  has  been  reproduced 
in  Elberfeld  on  a  large  scale,  embracing  the  entire 
population;  and  that  in  those  principles  of  poor 
relief  for  which  Dr.  Chalmers  contended,  the  only 
extrication  has  been  found  from  the  embarrassments 
which  threatened  that  city. 

Those  who  sought  a  new  system  sought  it  on  an 
entirely  new  basis.  They  felt  that  a  human  heart 
and  hand  must  be  substituted  for  a  board.  The 
poor  came  into  no  real  contact  with  the  rich  ;  they 
stood  at  a  cold,  legal  distance.  The  rich  came  into 
as  little  contact  with  them,  knew  them  only  as 
people  to  whom  the  board  gave  alms.  There  was  no 
attempt  to  check  poverty,  none  to  help  the  poor  up. 
As  many  as  were  in  bond  fide  need  received  a 
certain  relief,  and  that  was  all.  Alms  were  the 
easiest  service  ;  and  that  discharged,  through  the 
poor-rate  and  the  workhouse,  people  took  credit  for 
loving  their  neighbours  as  themselves.  And  not 
in  Elberfeld  alone.  God's  teaching,  Christ's  voice 
through  1800  years,  and  this  is  the  issue  of  it  in 
our  illuminated  nineteenth  century  !  And  we  will 
pay  taxes  fourfold  rather  than  take  the  poor  man  by 


258  DR.  CHALMERS  AT  ELBERFELD. 

the  hand,  or  feel  the  chill  of  his  wan  face  upon  our 
comfort,  or  remember  that  with  the  soil  upon  his  life 
he  is  our  brother,  and  we  must  answer  for  his  blood. 
We  hurry  him  to  the  great  poor-house,  and  boast 
that  we  have  done  our  duty  by  society,  and  feel  it 
ought  to  thank  us.  Good-natured,  pitiful,  kind  men 
will  do  it;  they  are  not,  as  the  poor  may  think, 
passive  and  bloodless  as  the  stones :  it  is  habit  and 
theory,  and  the  maxims  of  the  world,  that  freeze 
them.  Send  him  to  the  poor-house;  but  will  you 
not  first  look  into  that  miserable  room  where  he  is 
starving  ?  Pay  the  highest  rate ;  but  will  you  not 
first  consider  the  poor  ?  It  is  not  far  :  a  few  steps 
down  the  next  street,  a  little  climbing  up  the  dark 
stairs.  It  was  where  the  Lord  went,  and  He  said  : 
"  Follow  Me."  This  was  what  these  men  in  Elber- 
feld  thought,  that  it  is  selfishness  to  stow  poverty  in 
an  almshouse,  and  never  touch  it  with  a  little  finger, 
though  it  has  father  and  children,  and  heart  and 
brain,  as  well  as  we ;  that  poverty  will  never  come 
to  an  end  that  way ;  and  that  we  are  in  the  world 
not  so  much  to  carry  out  the  poor-laws  as  to  love  our 
brother.  This  was  the  foundation  on  which  their 
plan  rose.  The  official  relation  to  the  poor  must 
cease,  and  give  place  to  the  personal ;  aid  must  be 


BE.  CRALMERS  AT  ELBEEFELD.  259 

granted  not  by  statute  but  by  men  whom  the  poor 
feel  to  care  for  them.  Attain  this,  they  said,  and 
the  rest  will  spriug  from  it ;  better  feeling,  fewer 
poor,  lighter  taxes,  less  imposture,  steady  care. 

The  system  proposed  and  at  present  in  operation 
is  briefly  this.  The  town,  with  a  population  of 
53,000,  is  divided  into  252  districts,  1  to  about  every 
210  people.  A  visitor  is  appointed  over  each  dis- 
trict. The  visitors  offer  themselves  for  three  years  ; 
but,  though  they  can  then  retire,  by  far  the  greater 
number  have  preferred  remaining,  and  only  those 
have  withdrawn  who  were  unable  to  continue. 
They  are  of  all  grades  in  society,  in  office  and  out 
of  office,  head-masters  of  the  gymnasiums  and  ele- 
mentary teachers,  great  merchants  and  small,  per- 
sons of  property  and  young  men  in  warehouses, 
manufacturers  and  journeymen  weavers,  artisans  and 
bankers.  They  may  be  of  any  denomination;  an 
important  matter  in  Elberfield,  which  can  boast 
almost  every  sect.  They  are  only  asked  if  they  will 
faithfully  discharge  their  duties.  They  are  to  visit 
fortnightly  each  of  the  poor  in  the  district  in  their 
houses  (the  number  of  families  allotted  to  one  is  not 
allowed  to  exceed  four)  ;  to  inquire  into  their  cir- 
cumstances, to   foster   self-reliance,  to   counsel   and 

s  2 


26o  DR.  CHALMERS  AT  ELBERFELD. 

rebuke  tliem,  to  reconstruct  the  ruined  family  life, 
to  preserve  and  develop  family  and  neighbourly 
relations,  by  every  means  to  prevent  dependence  on 
charity,  where  help  is  imperative  to  give  no  more 
than  is  absolutely  necessary,  where  work  is  wanted 
to  provide  it,  to  detect  imposition,  and  reclaim  the 
outcast.  The  districts  are  organised  into  eighteen 
circuits.  Every  fortnight,  of  a  Wednesday  the 
visitors  of  each  circuit  meet  under  the  presidency  of 
a  superintendent.  At  this  meeting  they  report 
upon  the  poor,  and  prefer  their  requests  for  help. 
In  doubtful  cases  a  majority  of  votes  determines, 
and  in  no  case  can  relief  be  granted  for  longer  than 
fourteen  days  ;  if  still  necessary,  the  application  must 
be  renewed.  The  superintendent  must  visit  the 
poor  of  the  district  quarterly,  as  well  as  accompany 
the  visitor  in  any  circumstances  of  peculiar  emer- 
gency. They  appear  also  at  the  sittings  of  the  Poor 
Law  Board,  which  are  held  on  alternate  Wednesdays 
with  the  circuit  meetings,  report  there  upon  the 
condition  of  their  pauperism,  and  receive  the  needful 
supplies  in  money  and  kind  for  the  circuit  meeting 
following :  they  are,  in  fact,  the  organs  of  the  board. 
This  board  is  composed  of  men  of  high  standing, 
who,  like  the  rest,  voluntarily  offered  their  services. 


BR.  CRALMER8  AT  ELBEliFELD.  261 

Its  position  is  that  of  a  committee  of  the  Common 
Council.  It  fixes  the  assessment  for  the  year,  man- 
ages the  outlay,  superintends  both  the  indoor  and 
outdoor  relief,  investigates  the  condition  and  causes 
of  the  pauperism,  and  reconsiders,  or,  if  necessary, 
changes  the  decisions  of  the  circuit  meetings.  Its 
president  is  the  Mayor,  if  we  may  so  translate  the 
Ober-BUrgermeister.  And  anyone  who  wishes  fuller 
information  on  the  constitution  or  working  of  the 
poor-law  will  find  it  clearly  stated  in  the  admirable 
paper  read  before  the  Kirchentag  of  Hamburg  in 
1858,  by  Ober-Burgermeister  Lischke. 

Such  is  the  scheme,  somewhat  complex  perhaps, 
but  working  out  its  principles  with  a  thorough 
persistency  and  order.  The  simple  sense  of  a  deep 
human  fellowship  is  at  the  bottom  of  it,  of  the 
power  of  human  sympathy  and  contact,  of  human 
duties  that  are  owed,  not  through  corporations,  but 
from  man  to  man.  This  is  wrought  into  every 
detail,  penetrates  aod  sustains  the  whole.  To  have 
a  personal  acquaintance  with  the  poor,  there  must 
be  frequent  visiting ;  to  have  a  personal  influence, 
the  visit  must  be  the  prompting  of  neighbourly 
feeling.  The  one  requires  that  the  visitors  be  men 
with  their  own  calling  in  life ;  the  other,  that  they 


262  DB.  CHALMERS  AT  ELBERFELD. 

bear  the  largest  possible  proportion  to  the  popu- 
lation. If  the  visitor  have  more  families  on  his  list 
than  he  can  attend  to  with  ease,  he  will  attend  to 
none ;  if  he  is  appointed  to  visit  as  his  calling,  his 
visits  become  hopelessly  official.  The  connexion 
established  between  the  impulse  of  a  private  pity 
and  the  restraint  of  a  public  grant  is  also  very 
happy ;  the  one  stirs  the  heart,  the  other  controls  it 
by  the  judgment ;  while  the  limit  of  the  grant-in- 
aid  to  fourteen  days  is  a  continual  and  most  whole- 
some check  upon  an  imprudent  benevolence.  Each, 
moreover,  has  a  personal  interest  in  removing  pauper- 
ism, and  those  who  are  best  acquainted  with  it  are 
made  the  instruments  of  relieving  it. 

It  was  in  1851  that  the  plan,  then  well  considered, 
was  laid  before  the  corporation.  It  was  received 
with  a  storm  of  opposition,  and  not  without  ridicule. 
A  well-meant  impracticable  theory  1  Who  would 
volunteer  to  work  like  that?  If  one  or  two  were 
ready,  who  would  dream  of  252  ?  It  was  strangely 
Utopian  ;  the  council  might  pass  on  to  business. 
Keduce  the  visitors,  suggested  one  member  at  length ; 
reduce  the  visitors,  and  it  may  have  a  chance.  Re- 
duce the  visitors,  was  the  reply,  and  it  is  at  an  end. 
Perseverance  won  some  little  concessions :  permission 


BB.  CHALMERS  AT  ELBERFELD.  263 

was  given  for  an  experiment ;  it  was  allowed  on 
sufferance ;  of  course,  it  was  said,  the  men  will 
never  be  found.  Nearly  300  offered.  Then  sage 
people  shook  their  heads,  and  said  it  would  not  last 
a  month.  The  poor  regarded  it  with  suspicion.  It 
went  on  without  pause  or  hitch,  and  is  now  in  its 
eighth  year  ;  and  with  what  result  can  be  very  briefly 
stated.  In  1852,  the  town  was  in  embarrassment, 
pauperism  was  advancing  with  the  hugest  strides, 
the  poor-rates  were  enormous,  the  income  fell  far 
below  the  expenditure,  the  number  of  poor  was 
upwards  of  4000,  or  one  in  twelve.  In  1857,  the 
town  breathed  freely,  the  poor-rates  were  trifling, 
the  reduced  assessment  much  more  than  covered  the 
need,  street-begging  had  disappeared,  there  were  no 
cases  of  neglect,  the  genuine  poor  received  large 
help,  and  the  number  of  poor  had  fallen  to  1400,  or 
one  in  thirty-eight,  and  was  still  falHng.  In  1858, 
there  were  only  151  families.  Nor  have  the  circum- 
stances been  favourable  to  this  result.  There  was 
a  continuance  of  hard  years,  when  prices  were  high 
and  work  was  slack.  There  was  misapprehension, 
and  the  difficulty  of  an  unfamiliar  project.  The 
accruing  poverty  of  half  a  century  had  to  be  con- 
tended with.     When  these  things  are  reckoned,  it 


264  DR.  CHALMERS  AT  ELBERFELD. 

will  be  found  that  the  figures  are  under  a.  true 
estimate  of  the  gain.  Nor  has  it  been  impracti- 
cable to  maintain  the  efficient  staff.  Last  year  the 
number  of  applicants  for  visitorships  far  exceeded 
252 ;  instead  of  requesting  persons  to  act,  the  board 
have  always  been  in  a  position  to  select.  At  first,  it 
was  almost  at  the  peril  of  the  visitors'  lives  that 
they  went  among  the  poor ;  now,  they  bring  a  joy 
into  every  household.  And  the  impulse  has  reacted 
upon  them.  They  have  learned  how  it  is  more 
blessed  to  give  than  to  receive,  they  have  an  un- 
selfish doing  of  good  daily  asserting  itself  against 
the  gravitating  force  of  business  and  careful  world- 
liness,  new  lights  have  broken  upon  many,  new 
sympathies  been  stirred  in  them,  the  harsh  repulse 
of  class  is  disappearing,  there  is  a  mutual  knowledge 
and  reliance  of  the  rich  and  the  poor. 

The  story  is  uncommon  and  new.  It  is  a  plea- 
sant, hopeful  thought  that  a  spinning,  trading, 
Turkey-red-dyeing,  money-getting  city  like  Elber- 
feld  can  produce  252  men  who  are  unselfish  enough 
to  follow  an  unselfish  purpose,  manly  enough  to 
reach  a  warm  hand  to  those  whom  poverty  has 
thrust  up  a  reeking  alley,  with  time  enough  to  say  a 
cheery  word  to  the  sick  woman  in  the  garret,  or  to 


DB.  CHALMEBS  AT  ELBEBFELD.  265 

look  out  work  for  the  poor  fellow  hidiDg  in  the 
cellar.  It  is  not  the  tendency  of  our  time  ;  it  is  not 
a  story  that  we  can  easily  believe.  It  is  likely  to  be 
met  with  an  incredulous  stare.* 

Hamburg,  Berlin,  the  great  towns  are  incredu- 
lous. Yet  there  is  the  same  peril  threatening,  the 
same  burdens  weighing  them  down.  In  1849,  in 
the  forty  towns  of  Prussia  with  more  than  10,000 
inhabitants,  and  a  total  population  of  1,730,833, 
there  was  spent  in  in-  and  out-door  relief  £416,381. 
The  number  of  those  supported  was  811,963,  or  two 
to  every  eleven  of  the  poj^ulation ;  and  the  poor-rate 
was  4s.  lOd  per  head,  or  for  a  town  of  100,000, 
£24,000.  Do  not  the  very  same  facts  meet  us  at 
home  ?  The  poor-law  expenditure  in  Glasgow  is 
upwards  of  £100,000,  or  above  £250  to  every  1000 
people.  Between  August,  1840,  and  May,  1849,  its 
population  increased  by  twenty  per  cent.,  and  the 
cost  of  its  pauperism  by  430  per  cent.  Are  other 
towns  any  better  ?  Is  it  not  a  universal  evil,  to 
which   only  habit  has  reconciled  us,  while   remedy 

*  A  well-known  banker,  the  chief  promoter  of  the  system,  men- 
tioned to  the  writer  last  year,  that  upon  relating  it  a  short  time 
before  to  a  member  of  our  House  of  Lords,  his  travelling  com- 
panion in  the  railway,  he  was  told,  "  If  I  had  not  heard  it  from 
the  lips  of  a  living  man,  I  should  not  have  believed  it.'" 


266  DR.  CHALMERS  AT  ELBERFELD, 

looks  so  unlikely  that  the  few  who  dread  the  future 
are  unwilling  to  alarm  the  present  ?  The  marvel- 
lous elasticity  of  our  commerce,  the  growing  wealth 
of  our  traders,  may  make  the  evil  more  distant, 
perhaps  also  more  gigantic.  Is  it  not  worth  while 
to  try  some  effort,  not  to  stave  off  misfortune,  but  to 
avert  it  ?  Is  not  Dr.  Chalmers'  plan  worth  being 
tested  once  again  ?  Elberfeld  has  shown,  at  least, 
that  it  is  possible.  Are  men  less  ready  to  come 
forward  here  than  there  ?  Are  they  less  practical, 
less  willing,  less  interested  1  Have  we  the  poor  less 
upon  our  hearts  ?  Or,  rather,  are  not  the  workers 
ready,  if  there  were  only  the  guiding  hand  to  shape 
the  work  1  We  may  find  fault  with  the  Elberfeld 
organisation,  we  may  say  it  is  not  adapted  to  our 
wants ;  the  principle  remains  intact  :  if  it  has  been 
wrought  into  use  and  blessing  there,  it  is  hard  to  see 
why  it  could  not  be  wrought  into  as  much  use  and 
blessing  here.  It  may  be  that  this  hasty  sketch  of 
what  is  doing  in  Germany  will  lead  some  one  to 
think  of  what  may  be  done  in  England,  that  the 
new  birth  and  glory  of  a  half-forgotten  truth  will 
give  some  one  boldness  to  begin,  let  it  be  in  ever  so 
narrow  a  sphere,  what  was  never  really  a  failure  at 
St.  John's. 


ON   THE  BIOGEAPHY   OF  CEETAIN 
HYMNS. 


lOKBSWORTH'S  Peter  Bell  was  a  pedlar, 
and  there  have  been  pedlars  of  a  bet- 
ter character  than  Peter  But  the  real 
Peter — the  personality  of  Peter,  as  our  German 
neighbours  would  say — must  have  been  highly 
respectable; 

**  A  primrose  by  a  river's  brim, 
A  yellow  primrose  was  to  him, 

And  it  was  nothing  more," 

These  lines  are  an  honourable  scutcheon.  They 
elevate  him  to  the  great  body  of  respectable,  well- 
to-do,  steady  people.  Nine-tenths  of  our  excellent 
acquaintance  subscribe  to  them  as  the  creed  of  plain 
common  sense.     Why  make  a  fuss  about  a  yellow 


268  ON  THE  BIOGRAPHY 

liower?  Why  not  be  thankful  that  it  has  got  a 
name  to  sejDarate  it  from  other  yellow  flowers  %  Are 
there  not  thousands  of  them  out  in  the  fields,  and 
have  been  since  we  were  born  ?  And  are  they  not 
all  primroses,  and  is  not  that  enough  ?  Of  course, 
it  is  a  prosaic  view  of  the  world ;  but  then,  there 
are  a  great  many  worthy  and  good  people  to  whom 
poetry  is  a  bore,  who  are  thankful  to  find  the  world 
already  carefully  labelled,  who  placidly  accept  every- 
thing about  them  as  a  fact,  to  whom  a  primrose  is  a 
primrose.  There  is  a  poem  in  the  telegraph  wire ; 
yet  thousands  of  messages  are  sent  every  day  with- 
out an  inkling  of  it.  De  Quincey  could  not  think 
of  the  stars  without  feeling  their  mystery  and  awe  ; 
a  sailor  may  class  them  with  lighthouses  as  helps  to 
navigation.  A  quarry  was  a  mine  of  wonder  and 
scientific  truth  to  Hugh  Miller  ;  to  the  quarryman 
it  is  represented  by  a  rock  and  a  shilling  a  day. 
Millions  of  years  ago  sunbeams  may  have  been 
turned  into  coal ;  Faraday  can  make  a  fairy  tale  out 
of  the  flame  of  a  candle ;  but  we  may  put  coal  on 
the  fire  without  thinking  of  sunbeams,  and  our 
thoughts  of  a  candle  used  seldom  to  rise  above  the 
vexation  of  snuffing  it.  And  why  should  coal  not 
be  coal,  and  a  primrose  a  primrose  ?     Really,  I  do 


OF  CERTAIN  HYMNS.  269 

not  know.  It  is  perfectly  proper  that  they  should 
be  what  they  are  ;  and  if  any  one  persists  in  seeing 
more  in  them,  perhaps  it  is  perfectly  proper  that  he 
should  be  voted  a  bore.  And  if  any  one  is  satisfied 
that  a  hymn  is  a  hymn,  and  nothing  more,  this 
paper  will  probably  bore  him,  and  he  is  requested  to 
pass  over  it  without  delay.  The  Biograjphy  of  a 
Peal  of  Bells  would  be  as  intelligible  to  him  as  the 
Biography  of  a  Hymn.  And  a  very  pretty  biogra- 
phy it  might  make.  Sitting  in  the  village  church- 
yard, while  the  children  play  with  flowers  upon  the 
sodded  grass,  and  the  slow  gossips  saunter  past  the 
gate,  and  the  evening  sunshine  breaks  in  through 
the  golden  shower  of  the  laburnums  and  rests  peace- 
fully on  the  worn  head-stones,  the  chiming  of  the 
bells  trembles  through  the  air  like  speech  of  living 
voices.  What  histories  of  human  life  have  they  not 
witnessed  up  in  that  grey  tower  among  the  ivy  ! 
What  fears  and  jealousies,  what  greed  and  passion 
and  awful  sins,  handed  down  in  whispers  of  dark 
tradition,  have  they  not  rung  in  and  out  at  baptism 
and  wedding  and  funeral !  What  mysteries  are 
sealed  under  these  tombs,  but  no  mysteries  to  them ! 
How  they  have  chimed  for  every  one  that  is  buried 
round,  and  mixed  with  their  thoughts,  and  wandered 


270  ON  THE  BIOGBAPHY 

with  them  through  other  lands,  and  come  to  them  in 
dreams;  dying  children  have  heard  them  call  to 
heaven;  they  have  lingered  sweetly  in  the  ears  of 
happy  brides ;  lonely  fathers  have  wept  with  them 
for  the  dead  ;  they  have  softened  the  prodigal's 
heart  in  a  far  country ;  they  have  rung  like  the 
voice  of  peace  through  the  din  of  battle  ;  they  have 
startled  the  wicked  thought  and  palsied  the  wicked 
hand,  and  there  they  peal  still,  out  of  the  past  into 
the  present,  over  the  dead  and  over  the  living.  It 
is  only  a  peal  of  bells,  and  we  have  heard  them  a 
thousand  times,  and  nobody  thinks  of  them;  but 
yet  all  this,  and  a  great  deal  more  is  in  them.  It 
is  only  hymns,  common  hymns,  that  are  in  penny 
books,  that  everybody  knows,  and  yet  they  have 
biographies  ;  they  have  a  life  pierced  all  through, 
like  ours,  with  joy  and  sorrow  ;  linked  on,  like  ours, 
to  other  lives ;  they  have  their  birth  and  story, 
eventful  sometimes,  sometimes  calm  and  even ; 
biographies  that  are  written  in  the  surest  place — in 
the  secrets  of  many  hearts. 

Perhaps  every  hymn  has  its  history  ;  but  it  would 
be  cruel  to  suggest  to  any  possible  reader  that  every 
hymn  should  have  its  biography.  Some  hymns,  like 
some  people,  have   biographies  ;   the  rest,  like  the 


OF  CERTAIN  HYMNS,  271 

majority  of  the  world,  occupy  just  so  much  space, 
and  that  is  all.  Some  have  been  mere  untimely 
births ;  some  have  died  after  a  year  or  two  of  strug- 
gling infancy,  and  been  buried  in  the  British 
Museum  or  Stationers'  Hall ;  a  vast  number  are 
simply  labelled  hymns,  and  exist  in  hymn-books  ;  of 
a  few  it  may  be  said,  they  have  lived.  Some,  no 
doubt,  live  on  a  precarious  reputation,  an  accident 
of  birth,  the  favour  of  a  past  generation,  an  incident 
in  which  they  played  an  exaggerated  part.  Some 
would  not  bear  a  rigid  scrutiny  into  their  ante- 
cedents;  some  have  won  their  place  by  barefaced 
impudence  and  plagiarism ;  many  turn  out  shallow, 
and  commonplace,  and  wearisome.  But  even  here 
their  lives  will  compare  advantageously  with  other 
biographies,  and  there  is  not  one  of  them  guilty  of 
having  kept  a  diary.  Most  of  them  are  democratic ; 
their  story,  tHeir  power,  belong  to  the  people.  The 
select  aristocracy  of  hymns  is  not  fertile  in  memoirs. 
They  are  well  dressed,  well  printed,  well  bound  ; 
they  lie  on  the  prettiest  tables,  and  are  welcome  in 
cathedral  closes  :  but  they  are  uninfluential ;  the 
pleasantest  companions,  friends  even,  but  treated  as 
such,  as  a  charming  addition  and  solace  to  life,  and 
no  more.     It  is  in  the  penny  hymn-books  that  the 


272  ON  THE  BIOGBAPHY 

sense  of  power  is  felt.  Probably  the  hymn  is  essen- 
tially democratic.  It  must  seize  the  common  thoughts 
of  many,  translate  the  feeling  of  some  religious 
movement,  meet  the  deep  and  often  but  half-con- 
scious craving  of  the  people.  If  it  appeals  to  an 
intellectual  audience  by  its  thoughts,  or  images,  or 
play  of  pious  fancy,  it  strips  itself  of  power.  And 
it  is  in  the  penny  hymn-book  that  the  fact  of  a 
biography  of  hymns  has  been  recently  recognised. 
Some  of  these  books  may  have  been  noticed  to  be 
printed  with  a  painful  irregularity  ;  large,  bold  type, 
starting  abruptly  out  from  a  crowd  of  small  verses, 
sometimes  a  word,  sometimes  a  line  or  a  stanza.  It 
is  disagreeable  reading,  but  it  is  only  a  rough  way  of 
stating  a  genuine  truth.  For  every  line  in  large 
type  there  is  a  story  by  which  that  line  has  con- 
nected itself  with  a  human  heart,  with  its  burden, 
or  sorrow,  or  longing,  or  sudden  light,  or  eternal 
peace.  It  is  a  rough,  ugly  way  of  putting  it,  and 
probably,  over-hasty;  but  it  indicates  where  the 
truest  biographical  interest  will  be  found  ;  it  suggests 
also  the  difficulty  of  procuring  biographical  details. 
For  the  hymn  is  its  secret  autobiographer,  and  only 
by  some  casual  accident  is  a  page  of  that  WTiting 
brought  to  light. 


OF  CERTAIN  HYMNS.  273 

Yet  even  detail  is  not  wanting.  There  is  a 
memoir,  now  unhappily  out  of  print,  devoted  to  one 
hymn,  My  Mother  dear,  Jerusalem  ! — a  hymn  that 
has  been  a  great  favourite  by  Scottish  firesides,  and 
wandered  far  and  wide  with  Scottish  emigrants. 
Others  have  not  been  so  fortunate.  But  let  any  one 
stand  in  some  old  German  church — for  Germany  is 
pre-eminently  the  land  of  Christian  hymns — and 
listen  to  the  h3rmn  that  is  lifted  up  with  such  strong 
and  hearty  voices,  and  think  how  the  same  words 
have  been  sung  by  perhaps  ten  generations  ;  how 
the  people  have  heard  them  from  childhood  ;  how 
they  have  been  met  by  them  in  every  conceivable 
circumstance  of  life  and  in  the  brightest  and  darkest 
days  of  Christendom  ;  what  struggles  of  the  soul 
they  have  roused,  and  witnessed,  and  shared ;  in 
what  strange  and  often  tragic  scenes  they  have 
mingled ;  what  they  have  been  to  successive  mour- 
ners, to  widows  and  orphans,  and  the  sick  and  dying, 
and  h3rpocrites  and  plotters,  to  all  that  shifting  group 
of  worshippers, — let  any  one  do  this,  and  the  hymn 
seems  already  to  have  received  its  memoir.  A  Jew 
passing  by  a  church  with  his  sister,  steps  in  while 
the  people  are  singing  ;  he  cannot  resist  the  hymn ; 
his  sister  rouses  and  scolds  him  in  vain;    it  goes 

T 


274  ON  THE  BIOGRAPHY 

singing  on  in  his  heart,  though  she  calls  it  an 
abomination  of  the  Gentiles ;  and  in  the  same 
church  he  is  baptized.  Luther  ^vrites  a  hymn,  and 
soon  after  a  poor  clothworker  walks  through  the 
streets  of  Magdeburg  singing  it ;  the  mayor  lays 
hands  on  him,  and  throws  him  into  prison  ;  but  the 
hymn  has  done  its  work,  and  two  hundred  sturdy 
Magdeburghers  march  up  against  the  mayor  and 
demand  their  singer.  It  must  have  been  a  heroic 
song,  for  Luther,  shut  up  among  doubts  and  fears  at 
Coburg,  took  it  for  the  comfort  of  his  own  heroic 
soul,  saying  to  his  servant,  "  Come,  and  let  us  sing  it 
against  the  devil."  And  the  crowd  that  followed 
Luther's  body  through  Halle  on  its  way  to  Witten- 
berg, strove  to  raise  the  same  heroic  measure 
through  their  tears.  One  would  like  to  know  more 
of  this  noble  paraphrase  of  the  130th  Psalm;  but 
the  only  other  record  seems  to  be  this,  that  it  was 
the  last  Protestant  hymn  sung  in  Strasburg  Cathe- 
dral, now  well-nigh  two  hundred  years  ago.  Another 
hymn  has  had  a  singular  fate.  It  was  a  favourite 
of  Luther's  ;  entitled  by  him  A  Song  of  the  Laiv 
and  of  Faith,  marvellous  well  furnished  with  Holy 
Scripture ;  and  the  story  goes  that  a  beggar  lad 
from   Prussia   sung  it  one   day   at   Luther's    door. 


OF  CERTAIN  HYMNS.  275 

Handing  him  a  crown  of  St.  George,  his  last  piece  of 
money,  with  the  words,  "  Come  here,  my  St.  George, 
the  Lord  Christ  is  there,"  he  asked  him  to  sing  it 
again.  And  when  it  was  finished  he  asked  him 
where  he  had  learned  it ;  and  he  said.  In  Prussia, 
where  they  used  to  sing  it  in  church  ;  and  Luther's 
eyes  filled  with  tears  of  joy  that  God  had  spread  his 
word  so  far.  Afterwards  the  people  with  it  sung 
mass  and  priest  out  of  the  churches  in  many  parts  of 
Germany ;  and  now,  strange  change  of  fortune,  there 
are  villages  in  Austria,  where  it  is  regularly  sung  at 
the  close  of  the  Romish  worship,  a  last,  and,  in  the 
circumstances,  whimsical  relic  of  the  once  prevalent 
evangelical  faith.  Magdeburg  is  memorable  in  the 
story  of  hymns,  for  it  was  at  the  cruel  sacking  of  it 
by  Tilly  that  the  school-children  marched  across  the 
market-place  singing,  and  so  enraged  him  that  he 
bid  them  all  be  slain  ;  and  from  that  day,  say  the 
chroniclers,  the  fortune  departed  from  him,  nor  did 
he  smile  again.  Other  hymns  were  more  fortunate  ; 
for  we  read  of  a  certain  rough  captain  who  would 
not  bate  a  crown  of  the  thirty  thousand  he  levied 
off  a  captured  town,  till  at  last  the  archdeacon  sum- 
moned the  people  together,  saying,  "  Come,  my  chil- 
dren, we  have  no  more  either  audience  or  grace  with 

T  2 


276  ON  THE  BIOGRAPHY 

men  ;  let  iis  plead  with  God ;"  and  when  they  had 
entered  the  church,  and  sung  a  hymn,  the  fine  was 
remitted  to  a  thousand.  The  same  hymn  played  as 
merciful  a  part  in  another  town,  w^hich  was  to  be 
burned  for  contumacy.  Wlien  mercy  had  been  asked 
in  vain,  the  clergyman  marched  out  with  twelve  boys 
to  the  general's  tent,  and  sang  there  before  him, 
when,  to  their  amazement,  he  fell  upon  the  pastor's 
neck  and  embraced  him.  He  had  discovered  in  him 
an  old  student  friend,  and  spared  the  place ;  and 
still  the  afternoon  service  at  Pegan  is  commenced 
with  the  memorable  hymn  that  saved  it.  Of  an- 
other, it  is  said  that  a  famous  robber  having  been 
changed  himself,  sang  it  among  his  men,  so  that 
many  of  them  were  changed  also.  Rough  hearts, 
indeed,  seem  often  the  most  susceptible.  A  major 
in  command  of  thirty  dragoons  entered  a  quiet  vicar- 
ao^e,  and  demanded  within  three  hours  more  than  the 
vicar  could  give. in  a  year.  To  cheer  her  father,  one 
of  his  daughters  took  her  guitar,  and  sang  to  it  one 
of  Gerhardt's  hymns.  Presently  the  door  softly 
opened  ;  the  ofl&cer  stood  at  it,  and  motioned  her  to 
continue  ;  and  when  the  hymn  was  sung,  thanked 
her  for  the  lesson,  ordered  out  the  dragoons  and  rode 
off.     And  another  story  of  the  same  hymn  I  make 


OF  CERTAIN  HYMNS.  277 

no  apology  for  quoting  entire.  "  In  a  village  near 
Warsaw  there  lived  a  pious  peasant  of  German  ex- 
traction, by  name  Dobry.  Without  his  fault  he  had 
fallen  into  arrear  with  his  rent,  and  the  landlord 
determined  to  evict  him ;  and  it  was  winter.  He 
went  to  him  three  times  in  vain.  It  was  evening, 
and  the  next  day  he  was  to  be  turned  out  with 
all  his  family,  when,  as  they  sat  there  in  sorrow, 
the  church  bell  pealed  for  evening  prayer ;  and 
Dobry  kneeled  down  in  their  midst,  and  they 
sang — 

*  Commit  thou  all  thy  griefs 
And  ways  into  His  hands.' 

And  as  they  came  to  the  last  verse — 

*  When  Thou  wouldst  all  our  need  supply, 
Who,  who  shall  stay  Thy  hand  ?' 

there  was  a  knock  at  the  window.  It  was  an  old 
friend,  a  raven,  that  Dobry's  grandfather  had  taken 
out  of  the  nest  and  tamed,  and  then  set  at  liberty. 
Dobry  opened  the  window,  the  raven  hopped  in, 
and  in  his  bill  there  was  a  ring  set  with  precious 
stones.  Dobry  thought  he  would  sell  the  ring  ;  but 
he  thought  again  that  he  would  bring  it  to  his 
minister ;  and  he,  who  saw  at  once  by  the  crest  that 
it  belonged  to  King  Stanislaus,  took  it  to  him,  and 


278  ON  THE  BIOGRAPHY 

related  the  story.  And  the  king  sent  for  Dobry, 
and  rewarded  him,  so  that  he  was  no  more  in  need  ; 
and  the  next  year  built  him  a  new  house,  and  gave 
him  cattle  from  his  own  stall ;  and  over  the  house- 
door  there  is  an  iron  tablet,  whereon  is  carved  a 
raven  with  a  ring  in  his  beak,  and  underneath,  this 
verse — 

*  Thou  evemvliere  hast  sway, 

And  all  things  serve  Thy  might ; 
Thy  every  act  pure  blessing  is, 
Thy  i^ath  unsullied  light,'  " 

Of  another  hymn,  we  read  that  a  countess  once 
sung  it  in  a  public-house.  For,  as  she  was  tra- 
velling in  Austria,  she  stopped  at  a  village  inn,  and 
found  the  parlour  full  of  Austrian  peasants.  The 
law  forbade  Christian  assemblies,  but  it  allowed  any 
drinking  assembly,  so  they  met,  and  had  beer-jugs 
on  the  table,  but  in  reality  came  to  share  the  Lord's 
Supper.  And  having  asked  permission  to  join  them, 
as  also  a  servant  of  Christ,  she  raised  the  hymn. 
Yet  the  singularity  of  this  incident  is  surpassed. 
A  Christian  nobleman  put  up  on  his  jom-ney  at  a 
little  village  inn,  where  there  was  one  of  those  wild 
immoral  dances  that  still  disgrace  some  parts  of  the 
country.     Having  obtained  permission  to  look  on  at 


OF  CERTAIN  HYMNS.  279 

the  dance,  he  went  up  to  the  musicians,  and  asked 
if  he  would  be  allowed  to  have  any  tune  he  wished 
played  for  his  money.  And  being  told  that  he 
would,  he  asked  them  in  one  of  the  lulls  of  the 
dance  to  play  a  hymn,  and  sung  it  with  them. 
Some  ran  away,  but  most  stayed  and  he  prayed 
with  them,  and  this  was  the  beginning  of  a  singular 
awakening  in  the  neighbourhood. 

Hymns  have  sometimes  been  curiously  used  in 
stirring  times,  especially  about  the  Reformation 
jDeriod.  More  than  once  the  Komish  preachers  have 
been  compelled  to  abandon  the  pulpit  by  the  vigo- 
rous singing  of  one  of  Luther's.  They  have  played 
their  part  in  battle.  At  the  famous  battle  of  Leu- 
then,  one  of  Heermann's  hymns  was  raised  by  a 
regiment  before  going  into  the  fight,  and  one  after 
another  took  it  up,  until  all  the  columns  were 
singing  it  as  they  advanced.  "  Shall  I  silence 
them  ? "  the  general  asked,  as  he  rode  up  to  stern, 
tobacco-loving,  heroic  King  Fritz.  "  No  ;  with  such 
soldiers  God  will  give  me  the  victory  ;"  and  leaping 
down  among  the  ranks  and  crying,  "  Now,  children, 
in  God's  name,"  he  led  them  into  battle.  When 
the  battle  was  won,  the  field  was  strewn  with  dead 
and  wounded ;  it  was  night  and  the  soldiers  were 


28o  ON  THE  BIOGRAPHY 

weary.  Then  one  began  to  sing  a  hymn  of  thanks- 
giving, the  bands  joined  in,  and  presently  it  rose 
from  the  army  in  a  full  and  mighty  chorus  that 
reached  and  greatly  moved  the  king,  who  turned 
round  exclaiming :  "  What  a  power  there  is  in  re- 
ligion ! "  It  was  at  the  great  battle  of  Leipzig  that 
Gustavus  Adolphus  sang,  with  his  army,  Luther's 
Carmen  Heroicum,  and  after  it  that  kneeling  on 
the  field  he  thanked  God  for  the  victory  in  a  stanza 
of  the  same  hjnun.  The  Te  Deum  won  the  fight  at 
Liegnitz  ;  it  was  a  "  poor  sinner's  song  "  of  Luther's 
that  the  peasant  raised  before  the  battle  of  Frank- 
enhausen;  and  brave  Earl  Oldenburg  triumphed  at 
Drakenburg  by  the  song  of  Simeon. 

So  curiously  are  the  lives  of  these  hymns  inter- 
woven with  fiercest  human  struggles  and  profound- 
est  human  joys,  with  kings  and  politics,  and  famous 
battles  that  determined  the  fate  of  kingdoms,  with 
poor  peasants  and  lonely  and  nameless  households, 
with  crimes  that  leave  the  reddest  stains  in  history, 
and  softening  of  rugged  and  wild  hearts.  And  it  is 
pleasant  to  take  up  a  hymn  that  has  connected  itself 
with  past  events,  and  can  be  traced  into  many  a 
house  and  heart  by  its  comfortable  thoughts.  Her- 
bert's Hymn  on  Sunday  gains  a  certain  mournful 


OF  CERTAIN  HYMNS.  281 

delicacy  when  we  know  that  he  sung  it  himself  upon 

his  deathbed ;  that 

"  Like  a  sweet  swan,  lie  warbles,  as  he  dies, 
His  Maker's  praise,  and  his  own  obsequies, " 

Gerhardt,  himself,  died  repeating  one  of  his  own 
hymns,  and  even  with  the  very  words, 

"  Him  no  death  has  power  to  kill." 

And  there  is  a  touching  legend  by  which  as  King 
Christian  of  Denmark  lay  sick  at  Christmas  time, 
an  angel  came  to  him  in  a  dream,  and  told  him  he 
would  live  but  eight  days.  And  on  New  Year's  Day 
his  chaplain  preached  him  a  farewell  sermon ;  but 
when  his  courtiers  would  not  sing  death-songs  over 
him,  he  cried  :  "  Then  will  I  sing  myself,  and  you 
with  me,  and  it  shall  be  said  the  King  of  Denmark 
sung  himself  to  the  grave."  And  he  lifted  up  his 
voice  clear  and  strong,  and  they  sang  the  Song  of 
Simeon  ;  but  as  they  sung  he  fell  asleep  in  Jesus. 

There  is  now  a  common  hymn  in  German  village 
churches  that  strengthened  Queen  Elizabeth  in  her 
last  moments.  Luther's  Uine  feste  Burg  gains 
something  by  the  pretty  story  of  Melanchthon  ;  how 
as  he  stood  in  Weimar  with  his  banished  friends 
Jonas  and  Creuzieger,  a  little  maid  sung  it  in  the 


282  ON  THE  BIOGRAFHY 

street,  and  he  cried,  "Sing  on,  my  little  girl,  you 
don't  know  what  famous  people  you  comfort."  We 
read  our  old  favourite 

"  God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way," 

with  a  new  interest  and  sympathy  when  we  remem- 
ber Cowper  composed  it  during  a  solitary  walk  in 
the  fields,  and  under  presentiment  of  an  attack  of 
his  cruel  malady.  Even  the  Te  Deimi  wears  ^ 
grander  air  when  we  think  of  it  as  so  old  that  its 
origin  is  lost  in  one  of  the  most  curious  of  church 
legends:  how  that  on  the  Easter  night  of  the  year 
387,  when  Augustine  was  baptized  by  Ambrose,  the 
two  Church  fathers  stood  before  the  altar,  and  the 
Spirit  came  upon  them,  and  they  sang  it  through  in 
alternate  strophes  to  the  congregation,  and  the  pious 
Monica  cried  out,  ''  I  had  rather  have  thee  Aucfus- 
tinus  and  Christian,  than  if  thou  wert  Augustus  and 
emperor  !  "  That  same  Te  Beuon  has  accompanied 
many  a  martyr  to  the  stake  in  Flanders,  and  Ba- 
varia, and  London ;  Augustinian  monks  and  stout- 
hearted laymen  have  sung  it  high  above  the  flames  ; 
it  was  our  English  Bishop  Fisher's  farewell  as  he 
stood  beside  the  block.  And  once  it  was  lifted  up 
where   no   lesser   hymn   would    have   been   fitting; 


OF  CERTAIN  HYMNS.  283 

when  Columbus  discovered  tlie  first  grey  outline  of 
the  new  world,  and  the  crew  threw  themselves  into 
each  other's  arms,  weeping  for  joy. 

But  of  all  the  stories  that  hymns  can  tell  of 
themselves,  there  are  none  more  quaint  and  touching 
than  those  of  Mende  and  Novalis.  Mende  was  a 
night-watchman  in  Berlin  before  the  poetry  of 
night-watching  was  banished  by  police  regulations, 
while  the  watchman's  pious  chant  was  still  heard 
in  the  streets,  and  chorales  were  blown  on  long 
horns  from  the  church  spires.  Mende  was  a  living 
hymn-book,  whose  leaves  were  turned  over  by  the 
night  winds,  and  to  many  a  sick  room  and  troubled 
spirit  Bible  verses  and  stray  stanzas  would  be  borne 
in  from  the  silent  street.  He  had  a  verse  for  every 
house,  and  a  hymn  for  every  sorrow,  and  for  five- 
and-twenty  years  the  cheery  voice  of  the  old  man 
rang  through  the  dark,  bringing  more  comfort  and 
peace  than  all  the  ministers  from  their  pulpits. 
"  A  glorious  profession,"  he  used  to  say ;  "  by  day  I 
sleep  or  walk,  but  all  night  long  I  am  alone  with 
my  Lord."  Now,  Mende,  passing  one  evening  by 
a  worthy  shoemaker's,  overheard  eager  discussion 
and  heated  denunciations  of  his  beloved  church, 
and  began  to  fear  that  the   honest  Christian  soul 


284  ON  THE  BIOGRAPHY 

had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  some  wandering  dema- 
gogue. So,  lifting  up  his  voice,  he  chanted  certain 
well-known  lines  of  Gerhardt  on  the  simplicity  and 
unity  of  faith,  and  these,  falling  through  the  still 
air  into  the  little  parlour,  so  confounded  the  shoe- 
maker's guest,  that  he  was  fain  to  make  his  escape, 
while  his  host,  full  of  joy,  bade  him  adieu  in  the 
words  of  Paul,  Other  foundation  can  no  man  lay 
than  that  is  laid,  which  is  Jesus  Christ  Novalis, 
poet  and  philosopher,  wrote  some  hymns  of  a  won- 
derful and  gracious  beauty,  intelligible  to  all,  more- 
over, and  singularly  distinct  from  those  specu- 
lations that  ranked  him  chief  of  mystic  thinkers. 
His  father,  a  business-like,  prosaic,  working  man, 
troubled  himself  little  about  either  poet  or  philoso- 
pher, considered  rhyming,  indeed,  purely  mischie- 
vous ;  but  having  a  theory  that  boys  would  be  boys, 
neither  interfered  with  Novalis,  nor,  it  is  believed, 
read  a  line  he  ever  wrote,  unless  it  was  in  the 
ledger.  Novalis  died  in  his  bright  youth,  and  soon 
after,  his  father  attended  the  Moravian  Church  on 
Sunday,  as  his  custom  was.  The  congregation  sang 
words  that  he  had  never  heard  before,  so  thrilling, 
so  full  of  Christian  passion,  so  mournfully  sweet, 
that   he   was   deeply   moved,    and    on   leaving   the 


OF  CERTAIN  HYMNS.  285 

diurcli,  asked  a  neighbour  how  they  had  come  by  so 
glorious  a  hymn,  and  if  he  knew  the  author's  name  ? 
"  Why/'  he  replied,  starting  back,  "  don't  you  know  ? 
It  was  your  own  son."  Curiously,  too,  have  some 
hymns  been  born,  the  merest  accident  seemingly 
presiding  at  the  birth.  An  air  floats  pleasantly 
down  from  an  old  church  tower  into  the  pastor's 
study,  and  the  pastor  writes  to  the  melody  the 
sweetest  of  all  even-songs.  A  poet  is  brought  into 
such  straits  that  he  must  pawn  his  violoncello  ;  with 
better  times  the  violoncello  is  redeemed,  and,  as  his 
fingers  stray  over  it,  his  eyes  full  of  happy  tears,  he 
sings  what  he  calls  with  bare  truth  "  a  comfortable 
hymn, — for,  that  God  in  his  own  time  will  deliver 
every  one  that  trusts  in  Him."  During  the  plague, 
a  clergyman  follows  740  parishioners  to  the  grave 
in  nine  weeks  ;  his  own  house  remains  untouched, 
"  as  if  an  angel  stood  on  the  threshold,  and  waved 
off  the  pestilence  with  his  bare  sword ; "  and  in  that 
solemn  loneliness  he  writes  a  farewell  to  the  world, 
that  has  been  faintly  uttered  by  innumerable  dying 
lips  as  their  own.  The  very  finest  hymns  of  the  six- 
teenth century  sprung  likewise  from  the  plague  :  the 
poet  watching  for  weary  days  the  ceaseless  funerals 
that  wound  past  his  door  to  the  village  God's  Acre; 


2Z6  ON  THE  BIOGEAPHY 

and  so  absorbed  was  he  in  the  thoughts  it  sug- 
gested, that  he  remained  in  his  room  from  morning 
till  evening,  and  left  it  only  when  the  hymn  was 
finished.  One  is  written  to  comfort  a  sick  friend ; 
a  few  simple  words  at  a  death-bed  are  the  origin  of 
another ;  a  third  grows  out  of  a  mighty  sore 
wi'estling  with  the  devil ;  a  fourth  springs  from  the 
watchword  of  a  famous  battle ;  the  ancient  hymn, 
In  the  midst  of  life  we  are  by  death  surrounded, 
was  begun  while  watching  some  masons  building 
a  dangerous  bridge.  Standing  on  the  neck  of  Land's 
End,  Charles  Wesley's  thoughts  run  into  the  memo- 
rable stanza  commencing,  Lo,  on  a  narrow  neck  of 
land;  the  quarrymen  at  Portland  suggest  two 
striking  lines  ;  riding  from  Cork  to  Barrow  he  com- 
poses "a  hjrmn  of  eighty-eight  lines  for  the  con- 
version of  Irish  Roman  Catholics  ; "  and  when  the 
rough  tars  struck  into  one  of  his  services  with 
Nancy  Dawson,  he  sung  at  the  next  service  to  the 
same  air  a  hymn  beginning — 

*'  Listed  into  the  cause  of  sin, 
"Why  should  a  good  be  evil  ? 
Music,  alas  !  too  long  has  been 
Prest  to  obey  the  devil." 

Curiously,  moreover,  these  hymns  are  linked  with 
their  author.     King  Robert  of  France  wrote  what 


OF  CERTAIN  HYMNS.  287 

Trench  calls  "  the  loveliest  of  all  the  hymns  in  the 
whole  circle  of  Latin  sacred  poetry."  The  wife  of 
the  great  Prussian  Elector  wi'ote  the  Avell-known 
resurrection  h3rain  Jesus  my  Redeemer  lives.  Zie- 
genbalg  heard  it  before  he  died,  and  said  it  was  as 
bright  before  his  eyes  as  if  the  sun  were  shining  in 
his  face.  One  of  the  best  of  hymn-writers  was  an 
ancient  Duke  of  Brunswick ;  one  of  the  tenderest 
was  a  ribbon  manufacturer  at  Miilheim.  Thomas  of 
Celano  wrote  only  two  hymns  beside  the  Dies  irce ; 
Bishop  Ken  left  three ;  Nicolai  wrote  but  the  two 
finest — in  structure  and  majesty  and  devoutness  of 
thought — in  his  tongue.  A  single  hymn  has  con- 
ferred immortality.  Wearing  but  this  one  decora- 
tion, a  man  goes  down  to  posterity  and  outlives  the 
most  famous  of  his  time.  The  Dies  irce  has  been 
oftener  translated  than  any  book  except  the  Bible. 
The  precentor  of  a  country  church  is  remembered  in 
more  hearts  than  the  poet  of  a  nation.  The  bio- 
graphy of  a  hymn  will  often  reverse  and  confound 
the  judgments  of  Letters.  It  is  not  the  great  poet 
but  the  obscure  pastor  who  writes  these  "  heavenly 
lays."  In  no  country  which  possesses  a  hymnology 
have  the  great  poets  shared  in  its  construction. 
Three  of  our  greatest  poets,  Spenser,  Milton,  and 


288  ON  THE  BIOGBAPHY 

Wordsworth,  are  essentially  religious  poets.  You 
cannot  read  a  page  of  their  writings  without  being 
struck  by  the  deep,  pervading,  religious  feeling.  Yet 
all  the  service  Milton  rendered  that  way  (for  the 
magnificent  "Ode  on  the  Nativity"  is  scarcely  a 
hymn)  was  versifying,  poorly  enough,  a  few  of  the 
Psalms,  while  Wordsworth  wrote  some  agreeable 
stanzas,  which  he  called  "  The  Labourer's  Noon-day 
Hymn."  It  is  not  by  its  Schiller  or  Goethe  that  the 
great  hymns  of  Germany  have  been  sung,  but  by 
monks  and  country  pastors,  schoolmasters  and  humble 
men,  whose  names,  if  they  were  ever  known,  have 
long  since  been  forgotten.  And  if  we  turn  to  the 
Bible,  we  find  indeed  the  highest  poetry  in  Job  and 
the  Prophets,  the  men  who  were  poets  and  prophets 
by  their  calling ;  but  we  do  not  find  in  their  writings 
a  single  lyric.  It  was  David  the  warrior  and  king, 
Mary  the  young  virgin-mother,  Simeon  the  aged 
man,  who  waited  in  the  temple  ;  it  was  by  them 
that  those  glorious  hymns  were  written  which  have 
been  sung  these  thousands  of  years,  which  will  yet 
be  chanted  with  holy  joy  in  every  land  which  the 
sun  visits,  from  its  rising  till  its  setting. 

What  curious  and  subtle  interweaving  of  these 
divine  songs  with  the  thoughts  and  plans  and  final 


OF  CERTAIN  HYMNS.  289 

purposes  of  countless  beings  !  What  a  story  of  infi- 
nite love  under  a  thousand  varying  phases,  what 
adventure  and  chequered  life  in  that  one  Twenty- 
third  Psalm,  a  pilgrim,  as  a  recent  writer  pictures  it, 
"  commissioned  of  God  to  travel  up  and  down  the 
earth  singing  a  strange  melody,  which,  when  one 
hears  he  straightway  forgetteth  whatever  sorrow  he 
hath."  What  a  history,  to  be  partially  revealed  at 
the  last  day,  and  for  ever  unfolding  in  heaven,  in 
some  solitary  word  of  Christ,  like  that  sweetest  of 
lullabies  sung  to  the  weary.  Come  unto  Me,  and  I 
will  give  you  rest !  And  every  word  that  catches 
up  the  echoes  of  these  that  are  divine,  will  have  its 
tale  to  tell.  And  every  true  hymn  from  the  legen- 
dary past,  or  struck  out  of  some  pause  in  the  hurry 
of  the  present,  with  a  great  name,  or  no  name,  be  it 
"  common  as  the  commonplace,"  even  soiled  in  well- 
thumbed  penny  books,  is  writing  its  own  life  and 
yours  as  you  sing  it,  or  read  it,  or  recall  it  in  some 
low  half-murmur  to  the  melody  it  went  by  at  your 
mother's  knee. 


SOME   GUESSEES  AT  TEUTH. 


OR  now  well-nigli  six  thousand  years  man- 
kind has  been  guessing  at  Truth,  with 
what  result  its  mythologies,  philosophies, 
wise  sentences,  and  the  rest  may  declare  to  those 
that  read  them.  That  the  Truth  itself  has  been 
meanwhile  declared,  nay,  has  been  declared  from 
the  beginning,  has  proved  little  check.  For  most 
of  those  years  it  has  been  known  in  the  narrowest 
circle,  a  mere  pin-point  of  light  within  a  sphere  of 
darkness ;  and  even  now  it  is  but  advancing  with  a 
slow  and  irregular  step,  and  as  if  fighting  its  way 
over  the  barricades.  Four-fifths  of  men  are  still 
reduced  to  guesswork  for  any  knowledge  of  the 
things  that  are,  and  failing  the  sun  and  stars,  make 
shift  to  grope  their  way  by  a  fitful  firefly  radiance. 


SOME  GUESSERS  AT  TRUTH.  291 

But  even  with  positive  truth  known  as  widely  as 
may  be,  there  is  abundant  room  and  perhaps  neces- 
sity for  guessing.  For  the  truth  is  so  manifold,  and 
by  its  nature  hidden,  that  although  discovered  in  its 
outline,  various  of  its  parts  are  still  shrouded,  and  to 
be  humbly  guessed  at  rather  than  rudely  unveiled. 
And  if  the  True  Light  now  shineth,  and  all  that  are 
not  blind  may  see  it ;  yet  on  how  many  ulterior  and 
distantly  related  truths  it  falls,  not  so  much  reveal- 
ing them  as  revealing  that  they  are  1  To  take  truth 
in  its  most  positive  form,  as  contained  in  the  Scrip- 
tures, is  there  not  room  and  demand  for  abundant 
guessing  concerning  the  meaning  of  its  last  solemn 
words  of  "  Revelation  ;"  and  concerning  those  higher 
and  reconciling  truths  that  shall  unite  what  we  see 
at  present  as  the  opposite  poles  of  truth ;  and  con- 
cerning many  matters  purely  spiritual,  but  left  over 
as  yet  to  speculation  divinely  guided  ?  While,  if  we 
wander  out  into  regions  less  known  and  dimly 
'  lighted,  this  necessity  of  guessing  becomes  more  evi- 
dent. Every  fresh  fact  sets  out  some  new  relation 
of  truth  ;  but  then  what  relation  ?  Even  science  will 
not  always  yield  to  the  thrusts  of  logic,  but  will 
sometimes  open  its  knottiest  secrets  to  the  "inspi- 
ration of  a  guess."     And  if  the  patient  and  pregnant 

u  2 


292  SOME  GUESSERS  AT  TRUTH. 

guesses  of  certain  noted  thinkers  have  given  us 
higher  and  more  satisfying  knowledge  of  physiology 
and  psychology  and  magnetism,  it  is  but  rational  to 
expect  similar  and  larger  gains  in  morals  and  politics 
and  in  the  infinite  bearings  of  the  spiritual  world 
upon  the  material. 

Guessing  of  this  sort  is  no  light  and  haphazard 
matter,  a  sport  for  idle  hours,  or  for  other  than 
serious  and  profound  minds.  Least  of  all  is  it 
that  shrewdness  and  cunning  of  insight  into  mo- 
tive, which  it  has  come  to  mean  in  transatlantic 
speech,  and  of  which  Mr.  Lowell  has  fitly  sung  in 
his  last  Yankee  Idyll, 

"  Ole  Uncle  Sam,  sez  he,  I  guess, 
I  oii'y  guess,  sez  lie." 

Those  only  who  come  with  reverent  and  tractable 
minds  to  the  truth  they  know,  are  likely  to  guess 
at  the  unknown ;  those  who  search  after  it  lovingly 
for  its  own  sake,  and  serve  for  it  in  patient  and  long' 
and  rigorous  servitude.  Like  the  well-known  ideal 
Knight  of  Nature  in  Glaucus,  they  "  must  be  of  a 
reverent  turn  of  mind ;  not  rashly  discrediting  any 
report,  however  vague  and  fragmentary ;  giving 
man  credit    always    for  some   germ    of  truth,   and 


SOME  GUESSERS  AT  TRUTH.  293 

giving  nature  credit  for  an  inexhaustible  fertility 
and  variety,  which  will  keep  him  his  life  long  always 
reverent,  yet  never  superstitious  ;  wondering  at  the 
commonest,  but  not  surprised  by  the  most  strange ; 
free  from  the  idols  of  size  and  sensuous  loveliness ; 
able  to  see  gi-andeur  in  the  minutest  objects,  beauty 
in  the  most  ungainly ;  estimating  each  thing,  not 
carnally,  as  the  vulgar  do,  by  its  size,  or  its  pleasant- 
ness to  the  senses,  but  spiritually  by  the  amount  of 
Divine  thought  revealed  to  him  therein  ;  holding 
every  phenomenon  worth  the  noting  down ;  be- 
lieving that  every  pebble  holds  a  treasure,  every  bud 
a  revelation ;  making  it  a  point  of  conscience  to 
pass  over  nothing  through  laziness  or  hastiness,  lest 
the  vision  once  offered  and  despised  should  be  with- 
drawn; and  looking  at  every  object  as  if  he  were 
never  to  behold  it  again.  Moreover,  he  must  keep 
himself  free  from  all  those  perturbations  of  mind 
which  not  only  weaken  energy,  but  darken  and 
confuse  the  inventive  faculty ;  from  melancholy 
testiness,  pride,  and  all  the  passions  which  make 
men  see  only  what  they  wish  to  see." 

It  is  an  ideal  picture,  no  doubt,  but  at  least  it 
may  set  forth  that  the  guesser  at  truth  must  be  a 
truth-seeker,  qualified  for  the  search  by  proper  gifts 


294  &OME  GUESSEBS  AT  TRUTH. 

of  mind  and  temper,  and  by  a  diligent  and  unceasing 
training.  Not  but  that  there  have  been  strange 
guesses,  without  guessers,  so  to  say,  and  so  strange 
that  they  ahnost  bear  in  them  the  mystery  of  some 
dim  prophetic  vision.  They  may  be  stumbled  on 
in  the  traditions  and  sacred  books  of  most  heathen 
nations.  Paul,  at  Athens,  could  appeal  to  a  poet 
who  sung  of  men  as  the  offspring  of  God  ;  a  Latin 
poet  made  the  golden  age  centre  in  a  marvellous 
child.  The  legends  of  Buddha  and  Zoroaster  repre- 
sent each  as  born  of  a  virgin  ;  according  to  Caesar, 
the  Gauls  offered  human  sacrifices  because  a  man 
was  the  fittest  sacrifice  for  sins.  The  Karens  looked 
for  a  coming  of  God  with  a  resurrection  and  a  new 
creation  ;  and  there  is  a  saying  in  India  that  the 
day  will  come  when  there  will  be  neither  idol  nor 
caste.  But,  passing  by  theso  and  many  similar, 
which  can  be  traced  to  no  definite  source,  but  have 
lain  in  the  heart  of  heathendom  like  ''unconscious 
prophecies,"  as  they  have  been  called,  there  are  those 
others  that  have  been  guessed  out,  with  more  or 
less  of  conscious  effort.  We  have  those  pregnant 
sayings  of  Socrates,  whose  dialogue  was  but  the 
method  of  right  guessing,  and  by  which,  as  De 
Quincey  somewhere  wittily  says,  a  man  was  fairly 


SOME  GUESSEES  AT  TRUTH.  295 

"backed  into  the  well  of  truth."  Eupolis,  one  of 
his  scholars,  gets  the  credit  of  a  hymn  which  in  one 
stanza  contains  the  original  of  Pope's  ''Jehovah, 
Jove,  our  Lord  ;"  and  in  another  is  singular  for  its 
nearness  to  the  Gospel : — 

"  A  greater  liero  far 
(Unless  great  Socrates  could  err) 
Shall  rise  to  bless  some  future  day, 
And  teach  to  live  and  teach  to  i)ray." 

And  how  rich  in  such  border-truths  are  the  beautiful 
and  solemn  thoughts  of  Plato — the  most  striking 
of  all  antiquity  for  their  marvellous  approach  to 
Christian  verity ;  such  as  his  picture  of  the  soul  as 
a  chariot  drawn  by  two  horses,  black  and  white  ;  or 
again,  as  a  "  tyrannized  city,  poor  and  starved,  and 
that  cannot  do  what  it  would ;"  of  the  wise  man  as 
the  rightful  king,  of  the  just  man  as  he  who  must 
pass  through  tribulation,  and  (capable  surely  of 
a  fuller  meaning  than  Plato's),  "who  will  suffer 
stripes,  bonds,  the  rack,  will  have  his  eyes  burnt 
out,  and  after  all  other  sufferings  will  be  crucified." 
And  if  we  turn  to  Kome,  there  are  other  voices  as 
clear,  and  uttering  words  that  tremble  on  the  verge 
of  truth,  like  those  of  Seneca,  for  example  :  "  We 
reach  innocence  through  sin  ;"  "  No  one  of  himself 


296  SOME  GUESSEBS  AT  TRUTH. 

is  able  to  rise  out  of  tlie  depths,  but  must  clasp 
some  outstretched  hand;"  or  that  profound  saying 
of  Pliny  :  "  Nothing  is  more  proud  or  more  wretched 
than  man."  Nay,  so  frequently  does  Seneca  speak 
"  almost  as  a  Christian,"  that  certain  learned  German 
treatises  have  been  written  to  prove  his  familiarity 
with  the  writings  of  Paul ;  and  Jerome,  as  is  well 
known,  calls  him  "  our  Seneca." 

It  is  curious  to  linger  among  these  old  Pagan 
thoughts ;  to  find  how  near  they  sometimes  touch 
upon  the  truth  ;  how,  like  distant  mountain  summits 
flushing  with  light  before  the  sun  has  risen,  they 
seem  to  catch  the  earliest  rays  that  issue  from  the 
Cross.  But  it  is  tantalizing  as  well.  You  are 
always  on  the  point  of  a  discovery  which  is  never 
made,  winding  through  "  passages  that  lead  to 
nothing,"  and  in  the  reverse  of  the  Apostle's  pic- 
ture, seeming  to  have  all  things,  yet  having  nothing. 
The  transition  to  the  Christian  thinker  places  us 
in  an  entirely  other  world,  with  our  own  familiar 
sky  as  it  is  traversed  by  its  daily  sun,  and  set 
with  its  familiar  stars,  with  the  well-known  objects 
and  suggestions  of  home,  with  things  positive  and 
real,  that  we  apprehend  by  the  same  unconscious 
habit  by  which  we  live  and  move.     The  Christian 


SOME  GUESSERS  AT  TRUTH.  297 

thinker  may  be  still  a  guesser,  but  thought  is  no 
longer  one  great  guess.  It  is  based  upon  the  com- 
mon verities  of  revelation ;  on  these  it  builds  its 
speculations  concerning  the  yet  unknown  ;  by  these 
it  shapes  its  wise  sentences,  and  welds  the  truths  of 
God  into  the  facts  of  life  ;  out  of  these  it  springs, 
and  back  to  these  it  ever  returns.  Some  of  the 
earliest  of  such  Christian  guesses  are  crude  enough, 
and  with  a  great  baldness  and  sameness  of  form  :  at 
times,  however,  with  the  distinctness  and  pregnancy 
of  a  proverb  ;  often  the  simple  setting  of  words  of 
Scripture  ;  not  seldom  trifling  and  fanciful.  Their 
range  is  narrow,  extending  over  the  teaching  of  life 
and  the  experience  of  the  Christian,  but  avoiding 
philosophy,  science,  and  politics.  Perhaps  those  two 
collections  that  have  jfloated  down  uninjured  into 
our  present  century,  as  they  are  the  readiest,  so  they 
afford  the  best  examples,  and  do  really  contain 
some 

**  Thoughts  whose  very  sweetness  yieldeth  proof 
That  they  were  born  for  immortality." 

About  the  middle  of  the  third  century,  Sixtus 
was  Bishop  of  Rome  for  rather  less  than  a  year, 
his  episcopate  being  shortened  by  martyrdom  during 
the  Valerian  persecution.      Brief  as  it  was,  it  has 


298  SOME  GUESSEBS  AT  TRUTH. 

given  his  name  to  a  small  collection  of  Wise 
Sayings,  of  which,  perhaps,  he  was  the  author. 
At  all  events,  from  his  time  they  had  considerable 
circulation,  and  have  even  been  translated  into 
modern  tongues.  Some  of  these  sayings  run  thus  : 
— "  It  is  by  no  means  a  small  matter  not  to  despise 
small  matters."  "  Unrighteousness  has  its  root  in 
selfishness."  "  Whatever  a  man  has  beyond  his 
need  is  his  enemy."  "  A  lust  is  insatiable,  and 
therefore  it  is  always  poor."  "  A  wise  man  is 
always  like  himself."  "  The  flatterer  of  the  wicked 
is  more  wicked  than  they."  "  It  is  better  to  be 
overcome,  and  yet  speak  the  truth,  than  to  lie 
and  overcome  " — (with  which  may  be  compared 
Shelley's  well-known  but  terrible  saying  about 
Plato  and  Malthus).  "  All  wounds  are  light  but  a 
word  " — (in  the  Hindoo  Kural  it  is  said  : — 

' '  The  wound  may  lieal,  though  from  a  burning  brand, 
And  be  forgotten  ;  but  the  wound  ne'er  heals 
The  burning  tongue  inflicts  "). 

"  Do  great  things  although  thou  dost  not  promise 
them."  "  It  is  pride  that  makes  us  bear  grudgingly 
the  tabernacle  of  the  body."  ''  Living  is  in  our 
power,  but  right  living  is  not." 

About  a  century  after  these  words  had  been  issued 


SOME  GUESSER8  AT  TRUTH.  299 

into  tlie  world,  one  Nilus  was  Exarch  of  Constanti- 
nople. He  was  of  a  good  family,  still  young,  happily 
married,  and  with  certainty  of  a  brilliant  career. 
Chrysostom  was  preaching  in  the  city,  and  Nilus 
bowed  to  the  eloquence  of  him  of  the  golden  mouth. 
Now  it  was  the  spring-time  of  monachism,  and  the 
world  was  corrupt  and  dying,  and  the  Church  in  the 
capitals  was  swayed  by  intrigue.  And  to  Nilus,  as 
to  many  another,  to  the  man  of  the  world  most  of 
all,  there  seemed  to  be  no  escape  and  no  purity  but 
by  fleeing  into  the  desert.  His  wife  and  daughter 
retired  to  an  Egyptian  cloister,  one  of  those  calm, 
lonely  spots  along  the  Nile,  such  as  have  been  in- 
imitably painted  in  Hypatia.  He  himself,  with  his 
son,  withdrew  to  the  grim  solitudes  of  Mount  Sinai ; 
and  there,  among  the  awful  shadows  of  the  place, 
he  dwelt  for  thirty  years,  asking  no  fellowship  but 
His  at  whose  presence  the  earth  had  shaken,  and 
whose  voice  still  spoke  through  the  thunder  as  it 
rolled  round  the  jagged  peaks.  There  he  meditated, 
and  toiled  at  his  herbs,  and  corresponded  with  his 
friends,  and  when  he  died,  left  nearly  twenty  books 
and  a  thousand  letters  to  the  future  printer.  They 
were  ascetic,  such  as  a  monk  must  inevitably 
write,  shutting  out  from  him  the  healthful,  loving 


300  SOME  GUESSEES  AT  TRUTH. 

intercourse  of  his  fellows,  and  moving  within  the 
ever-narrowing  circle  of  his  own  life.  But  they 
were  the  thoughts  of  a  manly  and  vigorous  thinker, 
who  knew  the  world  he  had  deserted,  and,  from  a 
distance,  watched  it  with  much  interest,  eagerness, 
and  wisdom ;  a  man  who  is  clearly  distinguishable 
even  from  the  monks  of  his  time,  by  the  breadth 
of  his  views,  his  sagacity,  the  simplicity  of  his 
gospel.  He  also,  in  those  solitudes,  searching  for 
the  truth,  put  it  into  words  of  power, — few,  con- 
centrated words, — in  which  it  has  been  kept  for 
many  generations.  To  any  one  curious  about  the 
monks  of  the  East,  there  are  other  of  his  ^rritings 
richer  in  information ;  but  to  the  guesser  at  truth 
there  is  none  so  interesting  as  the  Capita  Parcene- 
tica,  from  which  some  sentences  may  be  taken  at 
random  : — "  Rejoice  not  over  the  bloom  of  thy  life, 
for  the  flower  of  grass  withereth  at  the  touch." 
"  The  ear  and  the  tongue  are  ever  in  danger." 
"  Let  thy  mouth  be  filled  with  psalms  and  prayers, 
for  the  evil  spirits  flee  at  the  name  of  God." 
"  Drive  away  wicked  thoughts  by  good."  "  If 
thou  wilt  have  the  devil  weak,  put  away  thy  sin ; 
for  if  he  lose  his  wings  he  is  no  bigger  than  a 
sparrow."       "  Suffer   affliction  ;    the    virtues    grow 


SOME  GUESSEBS  AT  TRUTH.  301 

beneath,  as  the  roses  blossom  from  under  the 
thorns."  "  Hold  idleness  to  be  the  mother  of  sin  ; 
it  both  robs  thee  of  the  good  thou  hast,  and  hin- 
ders thee  of  what  thou  hast  not."  "  The  joys  and 
sorrows  of  this  life  are  like  a  shadow  and  a  wheel : 
for  like  a  shadow  they  abide  not,  and  like  a  wheel 
they  roll  round."  "  Always  expect  death,  but  never 
fear  it."  "  Adam's  children  must  work  ;  Eve's  child- 
ren must  suffer." 

Now,  there  is  truth,  sometimes  profound  truth  in 
these  sayings,  and  it  is  singular  to  find  them  so 
free  from  monkish  extravagance  and  corruptness 
of  doctrine ;  nay,  upon  occasion,  protesting  against 
both.  But  two  examples  may  well  suffice  for  a 
large  class,  not  always  careful  to  rise  above  being 
mere  utterers  of  sentences.  Such  as  they  are,  their 
art  has  perished  with  them,  and  probably  the 
absence  of  any  legitimate  successor  accounts  for 
their  surviving  so  many  abler  works.  They  repre- 
sent, moreover,  exclusively  the  inner  life  of  the 
Christian.  But  while  to  a  certain  mental  type  and 
mental  condition  they  will  always  be  welcome,  and 
an  age  that  is  marked  by  the  revival  of  devotional 
literature  is  likely  enough  to  witness  the  revival 
of  Sixtus  and  Nilus  and  the  rest ;  it  may  be  hoped 


302  SOME  GUESSERS  AT  TRUTH, 

tliat  some  other  Christian  guesser  will  arise,  moving 
within  less  nan'ow  and  arbitrary  limits,  with  more 
creative  energy  of  thought,  and  essaying  rather  than 
shunning  the  problems  of  modern  life  and  modern 
science. 

As  for  what  of  guessing  has  prevailed  in  these 
later  centuries,  it  has  taken  a  most  free  and  com- 
prehensive range,  and  assumed  a  set  character  and 
culture  very  different  from  earlier  occasional  and 
accidental  efforts.  It  is  now  indeed  a  distinct  form 
of  literary  effort,  with  its  special  crowned  names, 
and  special  critics  and  admirers.  Felicity  of  ex- 
pression was  always  essential  to  it,  but  this  felicity 
is  cultivated  and  polished  up  to  an  unusual  bril- 
liance, and  in  cutting  the  diamond  to  make  it 
glitter,  it  is  sometimes  reduced  to  a  marvellously 
small  jewel.  On  the  other  hand,  a  notable  laxness 
has  crept  in  as  regards  terseness  of  expression ;  for, 
while  the  proverb  has  been  left  on  the  beaten 
highway,  the  path  of  the  guesser  wanders  "  at  its 
own  sweet  will"  through  ever- varied  fields  and 
flowers  of  thought.  Nay,  it  is  sometimes  difficult 
to  see  wherein  his  writing  differs  from  mere 
unfinished  work,  which  a  man's  idiosyncrasy,  or 
more     intelligibly,    laziness,    has     prevented     him 


SOME  GUES8EBS  AT  TRUTH.  303 

shaping  into  a  comely  and  harmonious  whole ;  a 
reproach  to  which  one  of  the  best  books  of  the  kind 
— that  of  the  brothers  Hare — is  not  unjustly  ex- 
posed. 

Perhaps  Joubert  in  one  direction,  and  the  Guesses 
at  Truth  in  the  other,  represent  the  extreme  limits 
to  which  this  kind  of  writing  may  be  pushed.  A' 
step  over  on  either  side  would  be  fatal.  A  man  may 
polish  a  sentence  till  it  sparkles,  and  yet  it  may 
neither  be  a  "thought"  nor  worth  a  thought.  Mere 
verbal  antithesis  is  only  a  trick  of  words,  unless  it 
rings  with  the  truth ;  and  it  is  just  that  trick  from 
which  the  real,  and  humble,  and  earnest  thinker 
will  recoil.  But  the  recoil  is  not  to  throw  us  down 
among  the  jottings  of  Brown's  commonplace  book, 
or  Jones's  efforts  to  comprehend  the  universe,  or 
Smith's  pencillings  by  the  way,  none  of  which  be- 
tray the  faintest  polish,  and  in  which  there  is 
nothing  to  finish,  for  it  cannot  be  said  there  is  any- 
thing begun.  Thoughts  of  the  true  kind,  guesses  at 
truth,  must  have  a  separate  completeness.  They 
represent  the  results  of  the  writer's  reflection  on  a 
given  subject.  He  may  express  that  with  exceed- 
ing point  and  brilliance,  or  may  choose  a  more 
homely,  unaffected,   even   rambling   style.     But   to 


304  SOME  GUESSEBS  AT  TRUTH. 

whatever  length  the  guess  runs,  it  must  bear 
being  detached  and  looked  at  apart,  and  have  a 
unity  in  itself.  And  it  is  the  peculiarity  of  some 
minds,  that  their  thoughts  lie  detached,  and  that 
they  have  no  wish  or  power  to  bring  them  together 
into  one  system.  There  are  books,  of  which  every 
"  one  feels  the  real  value  lies  in  the  looser  and  in- 
formal notes,  books  which  ought  to  be  written  in 
notes  ;  and  there  are  thinkers  whose  loose,  almost 
slipshod  utterances  by  the  way,  are  worth  more 
than  any  of  their  formal  and  pretentious  efforts. 
These  are  already  born  guessers,  and  need  no  more 
than  the  culture  of  their  special  faculty.  For 
though  every  man  has,  at  least  once  in  his  life, 
guessed  earnestly  at  the  solution  of  some  problem 
or  other  of  existence,  comparatively  few  have  the 
power  of  mastering  such  thoughts  so  as  to  make 
them  intelligible.  And  of  those  who  can,  it  is  only 
some  who  busy  themselves  with  such  solutions.  So 
that,  while  every  man  is  guessing  at  some  truth,  the 
guessers,  so-called,  are  rare. 

We  can  reckon  only  in  our  modern  period  two  or 
three  names  in  England,  and  as  many  in  Germany, 
and  not  many  more  in  France.  As  for  those  of 
other  countries,  it  does  not  much  matter,  for  they 


SOME  GUESSEES  AT  TRUTH.  305 

have  had  no  influence  upon  the  thought  of  Europe. 
Each  country  appears  to  have  a  distinct  individ- 
uaKty.  The  German  thoughts  are  mystical,  busy- 
ing themselves  altogether  with  the  higher  spheres 
of  truth,  struggling  with  the  most  vexed  questions 
of  metaphysics,  soaring  so  high  and  so  near  the  sun, 
that  the  unpractised  eye  drops  from  them  dazzled. 
Not  that  they  are  unintelligible,  but  on  the  brink 
of  it,  and  you  follow  them  feeling  painfully  near  the 
edge.  They  represent  fairly  enough  a  speculative 
people,  whose  thoughts  outrun  their  acting,  and  who 
search  into  the  elements  of  being,  while  others, 
taking  them  for  granted,  perhaps  on  insufficient 
grounds,  are  raising  up  great  national  histories. 
What  Englishman  would  have  thought  out  such 
thoughts  as  these  of  Novalis  ?  "  Death  is  nothing 
but  the  interruption  of  the  interchange  between  the 
soul  and  the  world."  "Love  is  the  Amen  of  the 
universe."  "  The  curve  is  the  triumph  of  free  nature 
over  rule."  "  Bodies  are  thoughts  precipitated  into 
space."  "The  woman  is  the  symbol  of  goodness 
and  beauty;  the  man  is  the  symbol  of  truth 
and  righteousness."  "  Every  science  becomes  poetry 
after  it  has  been  philosophy."  "  Mathematics  is 
only   common   elementary   philosophy ;    and   philo- 


3o6  SOME  GU ESSE  US  AT  TRUTH. 

sophy  is  only  higher  matliematics."  "  Much  scepti- 
cism is  nothing  but  unripe  idealism."  ''We  can 
know  nothing  of  ourselves  ;  all  genuine  knowledge 
must  be  given  us."  "  All  arts  and  sciences  rest  on 
partial  harmonies."  "In  the  /  we  are  all  in  fact 
perfectly  identical ;  from  that  we  separate  into  in- 
dividuality. I  is  the  central  point."  "Speech  is 
for  philosophy  just  what  it  is  for  music  and  paint- 
ing, not  the  right  medium."  "  Philosophy  is  the 
Poem  of  the  understanding."  Not  that  all  his 
utterances  are  of  this  sort,  but  that  this  is  their 
prevailing  tendency  presented  in  examples  as  in- 
telligible as  may  be  ;  for  there  are  some  so  wild 
and  mysterious,  and  awfully  daring  in  their  flights, 
that  they  seem  at  first  little  better  than  word- 
puzzles.  Yet  that  they  are  not  likely  to  be  that,  such 
golden  sayings  as  these  may  show — ex  niagno  tollere 
acervo : — "  The  poet  understands  nature  better  than 
the  man  of  science."  "  Poetry  heals  the  wounds 
which  the  understanding  makes."  "  Poetry  is  the 
absolute  real.  This  is  the  core  of  my  philosophy. 
The  more  poetical  the  truer."  "  Most  revolutionists 
do  not  know  what  they  would — form,  or  no-form." 
"  There  comes  an  energy  out  of  sickliness  and 
weakness,   and   it   works   more   mightily   than   the 


SOME  GUESSEES  AT  TRUTH.  307 

true,  but,  alas  !  it  ends  in  yet  deeper  weakness." 
"Science  is  only  the  one  half;  Faith  is  the  other." 
"Prayer  is  in  religion  what  thought  is  in  philo- 
sophy." "  The  whole  hfe  is  pubHc  worship."  "  The 
letter  is  like  a  temple  or  monument ;  without 
meaning  it  is  dead."  "Where  children  are,  is  a 
golden  age."  "Many  a  man  lives  on  better  terms 
with  the  past  and  the  future  than  the  present." 
*' Spectres  rule  where  there  is  no  God."  "There 
are  many  flowers  of  heavenly  origin  in  the  world ; 
they  do  not  flourish  in  this  climate,  and  are  pro- 
perly heralds,  clear-voiced  messengers  of  a  better 
existence  :  Religion  is  one ;  Love  is  another." 
"  History  is  a  huge  anecdote."  "  Genuine  innocence 
is  as  little  lost  as  genuine  life."  "God  is  only 
known  [comprehended]  by  God."  "  A  people,  like  a 
child,  is  a  separate  educational  problem."  "The 
less  the  work,  and  the  slower,  so  much  the  nearer 
being  perfect.  The  more  one  can  do  \nth  little, 
the  more  one  can  do  also  with  much.  If  you  know 
how  to  love  one,  you  know  best  how  to  love  all." 
"  He  who  will  seek  God  once  will  find  him  every- 
where." "The  preacher  must  first  seek  to  rouse 
enthusiasm,  for  this  is  the  element  of  religion. 
Every  word  must  be  clear  and  hot  out  of  .the  heart." 

X  2 


3o8  SOME  GUESSEBS  AT  TRUTH. 

"Philosophy  should  not  answer  more  than  it  is 
asked."  "To  contrast  vice  with  virtue  is  to  do  it 
too  much  honour."  These  are  thoughts,  one  might 
say,  of  remarkable  plainness,  not  burdened  with  any 
superfluous  mysticism  of  expression.  If  there  are 
others  that  seem  doubly  or  trebly  veiled,  may  it 
not  be  supposed  they  also  are  uttered  as  simply  as 
may  be  ;  that  it  is  the  remoteness  and  profoundness 
of  the  thoughts  that  make  them  wear  so  strange 
an  aspect?  For  that  many  of  them  have  that 
aspect  there  is  no  manner  of  doubt,  and  one  who 
is  reputed  the  least  intelligible  of  English  writers, 
and  to  whom,  if  to  any,  a  German  thinker  might  be 
supposed  an  open  secret,  has  himself  reported  that 
"here  we  cannot  always  find  our  own  latitude  and 
longitude,  sometimes  not  even  approximate  to  find- 
ing them ;  much  less  teach  others  such  a  secret." 

The  thoughts  remain  much  as  Mr.  Carlyle  has  left 
them,  the  delight  of  a  few,  but  often  a  puzzle  and 
mystery  even  to  them.  How  they  shaped  them- 
selves through  so  simple  and  brief  a  life  is  itself  a 
mystery;  and,  this  taken  into  account,  Novalis 
stands  first  among  all  the  guessers  at  the  true.  A 
childhood  passed  in  a  strict  Moravian  household, 
office  work  requiring  constant  attention,  the  seclu- 


SOME  GUESSERS  AT  TRUTH.  309 

sion  of  a  country  residence,  and  death  at  twenty- 
nine,  out  of  these  slender  materials  his  life  was  built, 
— ^these  and  such  others  as  lay  in  his  own  nature. 
That  nature  seems  to  have  been  as  tremulous  with 
passion  as  Shelley's,  whom  he  resembled  in  more 
respects  than  an  early  death  :  a  richly  sensuous,  but 
at  the  bottom  essentially  reverential  and  religious 
nature.  He  had  much  of  the  poet's  gifts,  and  in 
their  finer  and  subtlest  form,  yet  he  wi-ote  but  few 
poems  :  and  while  his  speculations  drev/  him  away 
to  the  vast  scheme  of  an  Encyclopedia  of  the 
Sciences,  in  which  each  should  mutually  illustrate 
the  other,  the  Moravians  were  filling  the  Church 
w^ith  the  exquisite  music  of  his  hymns.  Like  Pascal, 
he  was  a  master  in  mathematics,  and  had  a  united, 
quickness  and  accuracy  of  apprehension  that  enabled 
him  to  acquire  a  new  science  with  amazing  rapidity. 
Like  Coleridge,  he  speculated  much  on  the  philo- 
sophy of  religion,  and  towards  some  final  system  in 
which  the  sciences  would  have  their  proper  adjust- 
ment to  religion,  as  of  planets  to  their  sun.  In  such 
transcendental  speculations,  he  seems  to  move  with 
ease,  and  to  pursue  them  with  singular  daring  into 
regions  where  the  mind  falters  to  follow  him ;  while 
in  common  life,  he  was  practical,  sifting  each  detail, 


3IO  SOME  GUESSEBS  AT  TRUTH. 

and  imposing  on  himself  meclianica]  labours  from 
which  most  clerks  would  have  shrunk.  The  domi- 
nant impression  he  leaves  is  of  a  mystic  speaker ; 
and  we  recall  his  friend  Tieck's  picture  of  the  tall, 
slender  figure,  the  wavy  curls  of  brown  hair,  the 
transparent  skin,  the  brilliant  eye,  "  the  shape  of  the 
head  and  expression  of  the  features  hke  Diirer's 
St.  John,"  and  how  he  would  sit  through  the  night 
with  Schlegel  and  the  rest,  pouring  out  the  thick- 
coming  thoughts,  and  lighting  up  the  darkest  and 
hardest  by  the  dazzling  play  of  his  imagination. 
But  it  is  worth  noticing  the  quahties  that  went  to 
make  up  his  character,  and  that,  being  a  mystic,  he 
could  be  thoroughly  intelligible  on  other  men's 
ground,  and  thoroughly  practical  on  his  own.  Instead 
of  apprehending  less  of  truth  than  other  men,  is  it 
not  possible  that  the  true  mystic  may  apprehend  the 
most ;  also,  that  he  is  not  necessarily  an  idle,  profit- 
less dreamer,  bat  may  be  a  serious,  reflective,  dili- 
gent man  ? 

If  in  Germany  the  guesser  at  truth  is  somewhat  of 
a  transcendentalist,  in  France,  it  must  be  allowed, 
he  is  clear  of  whatever  obscurity  that  word  implies  ; 
and  while  the  thoughts  of  Novalis  are  loose  and 
straggling,  those  of  Pascal  and  others  are  orderly 


SOME  GUHSSEBS  AT  TRUTH.  311 

and  proper  as  soldiers  on  parade.  They  excel  all 
others  in  precision  and  system,  as  their  language 
excels  others  in  preserving  delicate,  sharp  outlines 
of  meaning,  and  nice  subtleties  of  division.  Pascal, 
Coleridge,  and  Novalis,  each  formed  the  conception 
of  a  vast  inclusive  religious  philosophy  ;  each  has 
left  his  thoughts  upon  it ;  each  was  led  to  conclu- 
sions far  in  advance  of  his  time,  and  to  investigations 
in  advance  of  his  conclusions.  Novalis  may  be  said 
to  have  penetrated  the  farthest,  and  formed  the 
grandest  plans,  and  to  have  had  the  subtlest  intel- 
lect. Pascal  has  left  the  nearest  approach  to  a 
system,  and  confined  himself  w^ithin  the  narrowest 
limits.  He  is  occupied  mostly  with  what  is  histori- 
cally true,  and  in  that  mostly  with  the  Christian 
verities.  His  thoughts  lean  to  a  more  accurate  set- 
ting forth  of  Christian  doctrine,  philosophically  accu- 
rate,— so  that  the  dogmas  of  the  Bible  may  be  seen 
to  harmonize  with  the  results  of  philosophic  inquiry  ; 
and  his  speculations  move  much  within  the  sphere 
of  religious  experience  and  consciousness.  There  is 
most  genuine  gain  to  be  drawn  from  him,  for  he  is 
the  most  positive  of  the  three  in  his  results,  and 
troubled  himself  less  with  those  faint,  far-off  nebulse 
of  truth,  that  we  have  as  yet  no  power  to  resolve. 


312  SOME  GUESSERS  AT  TRUTH. 

No  one  can  take  him  up  withont  feeling  that  he  is  a 
man  of  uncommon  reflective  power ;  no  one  can  lay 
him  down  without  feeling  that  he  is  a  man  of  un- 
common clearness  of  speech.  As  a  mere  writer  of 
thoughts,  he  is  not  only  first  of  the  three,  but  first  of 
all.  And  as  a  Christian  thinker,  and  one  in  whom 
the  Christian  will  find  a  fresh,  perpetual  strength 
and  pleasure,  he  is  specially  pre-eminent.  To  take 
but  one  or  two  of  his  sayings — and  they  are  taken 
just  as  they  come  to  hand, — it  would  be  impossible 
to  find  better  or  finer  things  than — "  To  know  God 
and  not  to  know  our  misery,  is  pride.  To  know  our 
misery  and  not  to  know  Jesus  Christ,  is  despair. 
But  to  know  Jesus  Christ  delivers  us  from  both 
pride  and  despair,  because  in  him  we  find  God,  and 
our  miser}^,  and  the  only  way  to  repair  it."  "  Not 
merely  do  we  only  know  God  by  Jesus  Christ,  but 
we  only  know  ourselves  by  Jesus  Christ."  "Jesus 
Christ  says  the  grandest  things  so  simply,  that  it 
does  not  seem  as  if  He  had  thought  them,  and  never- 
theless so  clearly,  that  it  is  manifest  He  thought 
them."  "  Holy  Scripture  is  not  a  science  of  esprit, 
but  of  the  heart."  "  The  incredulous  are  the  most 
credulous.  They  believe  the  miracles  of  Vespasian 
in  order  not  to  believe  the  miracles  of  Moses."     Or 


SOME  GUESSERS  AT  TRUTH.  313 

that,  well  known:  "The  multitude  that  is  not 
reduced  to  unity  is  confusion  ;  the  unity  which  does 
not  belong  to  multitude  is  tyranny."  Or  Neander's 
favourite  motto  :  "  All  contradictions  are  reconciled 
in  Jesus  Christ."  Yet  Joubert  is  a  more  national 
type.  His  mind  seems  to  let  off  its  pointed  sayings 
as  you  might  let  off  fireworks.  You  never  meet  him 
in  undress.  He  hands  you,  as  his  most  recent  com- 
mentator has  well  said,  a  tray  of  diamonds.  You 
forget  that  you  were  in  search  for  truth,  and  not  for 
clever  sayings.  The  whole  has  too  much  the  air  of 
a  work  of  art,  and  that  art  too  nearly  mechanical. 
The  truth  is  not  very  much,  nor  very  far  to  seek ; 
the  philosophy  is  not  so  profound  ;  but  each  saying 
represents  a  definite  and  limited  thought,  and  each 
is  presented  with  an  admirable  perfectness  of  expres- 
sion. Coleridge's  Aids  to  Reflection,  on  the  other 
hand,  are  only  divided  wilfully  into  so-called  apho- 
risms. His  mind  was  not  of  a  character  to  break  up 
into  fragments,  each  of  which  would  contain  a  cer- 
tain completeness  in  itself  And  while  here  and 
there  you  are  surprised  by  a  happy  thought  standing 
out  by  itself,  or  a  guess  at  some  far-off  possible  truth, 
the  whole  runs  together  as  imperatively  as  if  the 
divisions    were    all   removed.     The    portions  of  his 


314  SOME  GUESSEB8  AT  TRUTH. 

system  that  he  has  left  are  fragmentary,  only  because 
the  whole  is  unfinished,  and  it  must  always  be  read 
as  belonging  to  that  whole.  Had  he  given  the  pains, 
he  could  have  done  letter.  One-hundredth  part  of 
the  care  bestowed  by  Joubert  on  a  page,  would  have 
established  for  his  book  a  tolerable  reputation  in 
aphorisms.  But  at  least  there  is  this  compensation, 
that  he  makes  you  feel  his  love  and  honour  for 
truth  ;  that  it  is  not,  as  too  much  with  the  other,  the 
man  of  the  world,  the  man  of  letters,  who  speaks, 
anxious  to  set  forward  his  talent  to  advantage,  but 
the  man  who  recognises  truth  to  be  so  noble  and 
worthy,  that  he  has  fairly  lost  sight  of  himself. 

Better  types  however  among  our  English  writers 
are  Lord  Bacon  and  the  Hares.  Bacon's  Sentences 
— called  Elegant  by  some  strange  blunder — are 
instinct  with  a  healthy  freedom  and  naturalness 
and  power.  To  read  in  the  Guesses  at  Truth  by 
Two  Brothers  is  like  wandering  over  the  broad 
English  downs,  while  the  wind  is  curling  up  fresh 
and  crisp  over  the  grass.  The  firm  moral  grasp  of 
these  English  guessers  is  noticeable ;  their  practical 
sense,  and  great  breadth  of  wisdom.  There  is  some- 
thing characteristic  even  in  their  downright  blunt 
honesty  ;  in  their  love  of  moral  and  sesthetical  ques- 


SOME  GUESSEBS  AT  TRUTH.  315 

tions  ;  in  their  free  handling  of  political  science  ; 
in  their  reverence  and  religious  basis.  "  Without 
good  nature/'  says  Lord  Bacon,  "man  is  but  a 
better  kind  of  vermin."  "  The  master  of  supersti- 
tion is  the  people  ;  and  in  all  superstition  wise  men 
follow  fools."  "  A  civil  war  is  like  the  heat  of  a 
fever  ;  but  a  foreign  war  is  like  the  heat  of  exercise, 
and  serveth  to  keep  the  body  in  health."  "  Suspi- 
cions among  thoughts  are  like  bats  among  birds ; 
they  ever  fly  by  twilight."  "  The  best  part  of  beauty 
is  that  which  a  picture  cannot  express."  "  Extreme 
self-lovers  will  set  a  man's  house  on  fire,  though  it 
were  but  to  roast  their  eggs."  "  He  that  cannot  see 
well,  let  him  go  softly."  And  these  from  the  Guesses 
at  Truth  are  not  unworthy  to  be  beside  them  : — 
"  The  intellect  of  the  wise  is  like  glass ;  it  admits 
the  light  of  heaven  and  reflects  it."  "  The  ancients 
dreaded  death ;  the  Christian  can  only  fear  dying." 
"  Friendship  is  love  without  either  flower  or  veil." 
"  Hell,  a  wise  man  has  said,  is  paved  with  good  in- 
tentions. Pluck  up  the  stones,  ye  sluggards,  and 
break  the  devil's  head  with  them."  "  Surely,  half 
the  world  must  be  blind,  they  can  see  nothing  unless  it 
glitters."  "  People  stare  much  more  at  a  paper  kite 
than  a  real  one."     "  The  most  benighted  persons  I 


3i6  SOME  GUESSERS  AT  TRUTH. 

have  known,  have  been  in  some  things  the  most 
sceptical.  The  most  sceptical  are  often  notoriously 
the  greatest  bigots."  "  Be  what  yoa  are.  This  is 
the  first  step  towards  becoming  better."  "  Self- 
depreciation  is  not  humility."  "  None  but  a  fool  is 
always  right ;  and  his  right  is  the  most  unreasonable 
wrong." 

To  do  anything  like  justice  to  this  book  w^ould, 
indeed,  demand  longer  extracts.  Its  happiest  utter- 
ances are  those  in  which  there  is  least  of  the 
apothegm,  and  throughout  it  represents  the  fullest 
interpretation  that  can  be  given  to  its  technical 
title.  But  of  its  kind  we  have  no  English  book 
like  it,  none  so  compact  of  ripe  and  suggestive 
thoughts,  nor  so  nearly  approaching  that  ideal  of 
what  Guesses  at  Truth  ought  to  be. 

Other  guessers  no  doubt  there  are,  though  the 
great  world  shall  never  hear  of  them,  like  ripe- 
hearted,  genial  Claudius,  sitting  in  his  poet's  cor- 
ner at  Wandsbeck,  or  even  young  Novalises,  bur- 
dened with  mystery  of  vague,  limitless  thought. 
And  if  men  say  Cui  bono  ?  is  not  the  truth  reward 
sufficient  for  those  at  least  who  value  it  ?  The 
rest  are  likely  to  guess  but  little,  or  move  an  inch 
out   of  the    safe   road    of    accepted    commonplace. 


SOME  GUESSEES  AT  TRUTH.  317 

For  those  who  do  venture,  and  with  honest  purpose 
of  discovery,  there  are  infinite  and  abundant  plea- 
sures, joys  Uke  Columbus's  when  he  touched  the 
new  land,  or  Le  Verrier's  when  he  found  his  planet. 
Our  world  is  still  full  of  hard  and  tangled  pro- 
blems ;  may  we  not  guess  at  the  loosing  of  them  ? 
Science  is  not  rounded  off  like  a  measured  and  defi- 
nite sphere ;  is  there  not  yet  some  further  region 
to  him  that  will  manfully  go  out  and  seek  it  ? 
Are  there  not  certain  great  gaps  in  our  know- 
ledge, confusions  in  the  things  we  know  ?  May 
they  not  lead  the  quiet  and  patient  thinker  to  those 
truths  that  will  fill  up  the  one  and  explain  the 
other  1  Nay,  even  in  spiritual  wisdom  how  much 
each  generation  learns  from  the  last,  how  much  has 
still  to  be  learnt !  But  Christ  is  absolutely  true, 
the  point  whence  we  start  and  where  we  must  end. 
From  Christ  and  to  Christ  includes  the  whole 
circle  of  our  knowledge  and  the  whole  circle  of  our 
uncertainty.  All  truth  and  all  ways  to  truth  must 
end  in  Him  who  is  the  Truth  and  the  way.  Being 
in  Him,  what  is  unknown  need  not  perplex  us, 
cannot  baffle  us,  for  He  knows  it,  in  whom  are 
hid  all  treasures  of  wisdom  and  knowledge.  And 
above  all,  we  have  by  Him  that  knowledge  which  is 


31 8  SOME  GUESSEBS  AT  TRUTH. 

eternal — whatever  way  human  guesses  may  shift — 
of  a  Eedeemer  from  the  woe,  and  wreck,  and  curse 
of  sin,  the  knowledge  of  God  and  Jesus  Christ  whom 
He  hath  sent. 


ON   VAGABONDS. 


BEGGAR  who  should  carry  in  his  person 
the  traditions  of  his  race  would  be  a 
sight  to  strike  terror  into  a  parish  beadle. 
His  rags  should  flutter  to  the  wind  like  banners  that 
have  flapped  for  centuries  over  knights'  stalls.  His 
grizzled  locks  should  tell  of  ancient  fortunes.  His 
form  should  be  the  wreck  of  fallen  greatness.  His 
whine  should  be  the  song  of  "blind  M^onides." 
The  thin  palm  outstretched  for  an  alms  should  be 
the  hand  that  smote  the  Vandal  hordes  at  Carthage. 
His  head-gear  should  be  the  battered  emblems  of  a 
crown.  His  staff  should  have  propped  his  tottering 
steps  before  the  Deluge.  He  should  have  received 
largess  from  Augustus,  and  prowled  about  the  kitchen 
of  Semiramis,  sat  at  the  gate  of  Baalbec,  and  filled 


320  ON   VAGABONDS. 

his  wallet  from  the  tent  of  Achilles.  What  Bumble 
would  thrust  the  Beggar  of  Bethnal  Green  into  the 
casual  ward  ?  What  Board  of  Guardians  would  not 
throw  open  the  doors  to  King  Cophetua's  beggar- 
maid?  Is  there  a  policeman  who  would  dare  bid 
Homer  move  on,  or  lay  but  the  point  of  his  baton 
on  Lear  ?  Polyphemus,  eyeless  and  unshapely,  grop^ 
ing  round  the  world  for  bread,  Diogenes  snarling  in 
his  tub,  Ulysses  fed  with  scraps  by  his  own  cook, — 

even  the  parish  of  would  bend   before  such 

greatness,  and  the  tub  might  be  rolled  to  the  corner 
of  Tyburnia.  The  Mendicity  Society  would  not  un- 
seat Belisarius  from  his  corner,  nor  stay  the  hand 
that  slipped  a  coin  to  Edie  Ochiltree.  The  royal 
"  gaberlunzie  man "  in  the  stocks ;  Timon's  head- 
stone over  a  workhouse  grave  ! — who  does  not  smile 
at  the  absurdity  ?  Let  the  beggar  pass,  "  the  only 
free  man  in  the  universe."  As  well  arrest  the  flying 
sand  of  the  desert. 

He  belongs  to  the  oldest  of  corporations  ;  yet  no 
party  man,  but  a  citizen  of  the  world.  Climate  and 
soil  are  alike  to  him ;  he  does  not  avoid  tropic  heats, 
polar  frosts  do  not  chill  his  blood ;  but  he  affects  the 
society  of  his  kind,  and  abounds  most  in  temperate 
zones.     "The    world  goes  up,   and  the   world  goes 


ON   VAGABONDS.  321 

down/'  bnt  not  he ;  like  Humility,  tie  walks  safe  in 
the  valley.  He  is  so  long  in  the  world  that  it  is  his 
by  prescriptive  right ;  the  green  lanes,  and  heaths, 
and  shady  copses ;  the  broken  meats,  and  bones,  and 
all  the  coppers ;  and  that  antique  division  between 
meum  and  tuum  is  abolished  in  his  favour.  He  is 
conservative  of  ancient  customs,  and  has  not  changed 
either  his  dress  or  his  habits  these  thousands  of 
years. 

With  all  this  he  is  a  vagabond ;  of  the  lineage  of 
heroes  it  may  be,  but  of  the  corporation  of  vaga- 
bonds. Charles  Lamb  will  have  it,  that  beggars  are 
"  standing  morals,  emblems,  mementoes,  dial-mot- 
toes, Spital  sermons,  books  for  children,  the  salutary 
checks  and  pauses  to  the  high  and  rushing  tide  of 
greasy  citizenry ;"  he  has  a  grudge  against  the  poor- 
laws  — "  scrips,  wallets,  bags ;  staves,  dogs,  and 
crutches ;  the  whole  mendicant  fraternity  with  all 
their  baggage,  are  fast  posting  out  of  the  purlieus 
of  this  eleventh  persecution ; "  he  sighs  over  the 
"  helium  ad  exterminationem  proclaimed  against  a 
species ; — much  good  might  be  sucked  out  of  these 
beggars."  He  will  not  recognise  them  to  be  vaga- 
bonds. "  If  I  were  not  the  independent  gentleman 
that  I  am,  I  would  choose,  out  of  the  delicacy  and 


322  ON   VAGABONDS. 

true  greatness  of  my  mind,  to  be  a  beggar."  Society 
sees  them  to  be  vagabonds  and  nothing  else ;  wages 
war  on  them  as  such ;  shuts  her  door  upon  them ; 
builds  poor-houses,  and  drives  them  in  through  the 
stern  gates ;  gives  them  over  to  policeman  Z ;  holds 
them  in  suspicion  and  abhorrence.  And  I  am  afraid 
that  Society  is  right,  and  Charles  Lamb  is  wrong. 
Perhaps  she  would  be  the  better  for  something  of 
his  gentleness  ;  if  even  she  would  sometimes  say  to 
herself  with  him  :  "  Rake  not  into  the  bowels  of  un- 
welcome truth  to  save  a  halfpenny."  Human  life  is 
too  living  to  be  gauged  by  rigid  theories  of  political 
economy,  the  more  rigid  the  less  likely  to  be  true  ; 
and  those  who  button  up  their  pockets  at  the  dis- 
tant prospect  of  an  alms,  may  be  violating  the  very 
science  they  profess,  and  which  in  its  highest  form 
is,  thou  shall  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself.  It  was 
only  the  other  day  the  papers  told  of  some  lone 
woman  among  those  brave  suffering  artisans  of  Lan- 
cashire ;  how  in  the  depth  of  her  need  and  almost 
despair  she  went  out  to  sing  a  ballad  in  the  streets, 
a  sweet  old  plaintive  ditty  that  her  mother  had  often 
sung  to  her,  and  how  she  sung  it  in  her  low,  modest, 
tremulous  way,  till,  as  she  finished  and  looked  round 
and  saw  by  the  group  of  faces  she  was  in  public,  she 


ON  VAGABONDS.  323 

burst  into  tears ;  and  how  a  Lancashire  lad  stepped 
up,  and  took  round  his  hat,  and  brought  it  to  her 
well  stored  with  coppers,  and  sent  her  home.     Who 
would  not  wish  to  have  stood  in  that  Lancashire  lad's 
place  ?  who  would  not  have   dropped  a  penny  into 
the  hat  ?  who  would  be  so  unfeeling  as  have  met  her 
with  a  surly  Go  to  the  workhouse  ?     If  the  kind  soul 
that  warmed  to  little  carol-singing  Martin  Luther 
had  handed  him  to  the  constable  for  a  noisy  young 
beggar,  what  might  have  been  the  fate  of  modern 
Christendom  ?     The  theory  is  good,  but  life  requires 
we  should  sit  loosely  to  it ;  that  we  should  not  read 
the  second  and  great  commandment  as  if  it  was  in 
the  second  table,  and  ran,  thou  shalt  not.     Perhaps, 
also.  Society  is  over-confident  in  her  work-houses 
and  poor-laws,  and  that  they  are  not  the  very  best 
system  that  can  be  devised  ;  that  the  way  has  to  be 
fou^id  yet  for  helping  the  poor  out  of  their  poverty 
without  crushing  them  down  into  mere  alms-takers ; 
that  the  poor-house  bears  too  much  of  the  same  rela- 
tion to  the  poor  as  the  jail  to  the  criminal,  punitive 
and  not  preventive ;  the  simple  acknowledgment  of 
poverty  as  a  fact,  and  the  effort  to  keep  it  within 
bounds  and  prevent  it  obtruding  on  the  susceptibili- 
ties of  the  public.     Nor  may  this   same  Society  be 

Y   2 


324  ON   VAGABONDS. 

altogether  guiltless  of  a  comfortable  satisfaction  ia 
having  her  duties  done  vicariously,  by  boards  and 
officials,  within  dreary  stone  walls,  out  of  sight,  and, 
by  the  old  proverb,  out  of  mind.  But  upon  beggars 
the  judgment  is  sound.  They  are  vagabonds,  and 
vagabonds  make  war  upon  Society,  and  Society  must 
make  war  upon  them  even  in  self-defence.  They 
are  the  universal  parasites,  to  be  found  wherever 
society  is  found.  They  prey  upon  her,  draw  their 
strength  from  her,  and  assail  her  in  return.  It  is  a 
parricidal  war  of  the  offspring  upon  the  parent;  a 
struggle  between  the  rogues  and  the  honest  men ; — 
the  determined  effort  to  pasture  their  leanness  upon 
their  neighbour's  fatness.  The  vagabond  in  this 
light  ceases  to  meet  with  any  sentimental  pity.  We 
can  hardly  be  patient  with  Goldsmith  for  telling 
such  a  charming  story,  under  the  title  of  The  Phi- 
losophic Vagabond.  Lamb's  love  for  mendicants 
seems  a  crime.  Wordsworth,  of  course,  might  make 
heroes  of  one-legged  tramps,  and  heroines  of  evil- 
looking  gipsy-women ;  but  it  is  too  bad  that  Vincent 
Bourne  could  find  no  better  subject  for  "  the  sweetest 
of  his  poems  "  than  a  blind  beggar's  dog.  Do  we  not 
know  that  the  dogs  are'  of  a  piece  with  their  master  ? 
Do  we  not  know  that  when  Gerard's  Italian  hound 


ON   VAGABONDS.  325 

followed  Dr.  Burgess,  and  that  simple-minded  divine 
took  him  up,  it  was  only,  to  his  horror,  to  have  the 
dog  picking  everybody's  pocket  in  the  street,  and 
sneaking  with  the  booty  to  his  new  master  ?  War 
to  the  knife,  we  cry,  against  the  whole  crew  ;  and 
fetch  down  Mr.  Mayhew's  ponderous  volumes  ;  and 
gaze  with  a  horrid  fascination  on  those  statistics, 
lists  of  vagabonds,  beside  which  Homer's  Catalogue 
of  ships  is  a  bagatelle, — vagabonds  that  must  be 
classified  with  the  Roman  alphabet,  and  the  Greek 
alphabet,  and  numerals  large  and  small ;  armies  of 
vagabonds  who  march  over  successive  pages  until  we 
fancy  them  all  on  the  march  against  our  slender 
purse  and  unbarred  doors. 

Now  without  exaggeration  this  Vagabondage  is 
an  alarming  evil,  and  one  that  has  reached  such 
proportions  as  almost  to  dishearten  those  who  are 
eager  for  social  reform  ;  one,  too,  which  needs  to 
be  mastered  in  its  history  and  bearings  before  fairly 
grappling  it.  For  it  has  a  history  stretching  back 
to  the  very  farthest  antiquity,  till  the  shadow  of 
Cain — first  of  vagabonds,  arch-vagabond  of  the  race 
— falls  darkly  across  it ;  a  history  that  is  preserved 
in  the  crime  and  pauperism  of  every  nation  ;  the 
history  of  a  distinct,  comprehensive,  and  well-organ- 


326  ON  VAGABONDS. 

ized  system,  which  employs  against  society  more 
than  three  hundred  kinds  of  roguery,  and  against 
which  society  in  its  turn  employs  poor-laws,  prisons, 
reformatories,  Magdalens,  and  those  other  punitive 
and  curative  measures  that  take  up  so  large  a  space 
in  modern  social  studies.  And  the  beggar,  with  his 
Give  a  poor  man  a  penny,  Sir,  crouches  there  in  the 
street  as  the  representative  of  Vagabondage  and  its 
history.  For  out  of  Beggardom  does  our  modern 
Vagabondage  seem  to  have  sprung,  carrying  with  it, 
as  it  widened  down  the  centuries,  certain  clear  indi- 
cations of  its  origin. 

Out  of  Beggardom  born,  and  in  the  old,  heroic 
Middle  Ages.  It  grew  up  on  fat  abbey  lands,  and 
round  the  great  cathedrals;  and  the  gallant,  gay 
crusaders  had  it  for  retinue  as  they  rode  to  Pales- 
tine— 2^^^^  equitem  sedet  atra  cura  in  a  literal  and 
very  terrible  sense.  For  eleven  centuries  the 
Church  had  fostered  and  petted  beggars  ;  and  Am- 
brose's remonstrance  of  the  year  400  only  marked 
the  beginnings  of  a  begging  plague.  In  time  the 
inert  mass  of  beggary  received  an  impulse.  The 
great  orders  of  mendicant  friars  sprang  up,  and 
the  monk  with  his  wallet  was  met  in  every  street 
and  on  every  road.     The  lesson  was  easily  learnt. 


ON  VAGABONDS.  327 

Mock  orders  went  out  on  plea  of  churcli  penance  : 
Flagellants  whipped  themselves,  and  stole  from 
their  neighbours ;  the  Dancing  devotees  whirled 
through  great  part  of  Europe,  and  sucked  up 
numbers  of  idle  fellows  in  their  course ;  groups 
of  beggars  slipped  themselves  from  the  great  body 
like  the  small  puffs  of  foam  that  scud  away  from 
large  patches ;  and  before  long  Beggardom  was  an 
organized  vagrancy.  During  this  time  the  crusading 
spirit  had  died  out,  but  not  without  leaving  behind 
it  a  restless  spirit  of  adventure.  The  Crusades  them- 
selves, like  all  wars,  swelled  the  number  of  idlers  and 
poor ;  and  when  this  chivalry  had  lost  its  finer  and 
nobler  elements,  it  became  mere  vagrant  knight- 
errantry.  The  old  feudaUsm  provided  it  with  organi- 
zation, and  bands  of  men  wandered  over  the  country 
at  large, — the  30,000  "  Devils,"  and  lesser  bodies, — 
plundering  as  they  went,  and  leaving  a  thirst  for 
plundering  in  their  route.  And  as  if  this  had  not 
been  enough  to  set  all  Beggardom  in  motion,  the 
fifteenth  century  witnessed  the  advent  of  the  Gipsies, 
from  where  no  one  could  tell,  from  Egypt  they  said 
themselves.  "  Counting  from  the  birth  of  Christ 
fourteen  hundred  and  seventeen  years,"  says  old 
Sebastian  Munster,  "  were  there  first  seen  in  Ger- 


3^8  ON  VAGABONDS. 

many  the  Zigeuner*  an  unformed,  black,  wild,  and 
filthy  people,  greatly  given  to  stealing.  They  have 
a  count  and  some  knights  among  them,  well  clothed, 
and  truly  honoured.  They  give  out  that  they  are  on 
penance,  and  that  they  set  off  from  Lower  Egypt. 
But  these  are  stories.  They  have  no  fatherland  ; 
wander  idly  about ;  support  themselves  by  thieving  ; 
live  like  dogs ;  and  have  no  religion."  They  even 
showed  honest  Sebastian  a  letter  from  Emperor 
Sigismund  in  which  it  stood  that  their  forefathers  had 
apostatized  from  the  Christian  faith,  and  that  they 
were  to  journey  on  penance  as  many  years  as  the 
years  of  their  unbelief.  In  ten  years  acco-unts  came 
from  Paris  that  twelve  mounted  Gipsies,  with  eighty 
women  and  children,  had  passed  through  the  streets, 
saying  that  the  Pope  had  sent  them  on  pilgrimage, 
and  that  every  bishop  was  to  give  them  ten  francs. 
A  hundred  years  later  an  English  statute  was 
made,  rehearsing  that  "  many  outlandish  people, 
calling  themselves  Egyptians,  using  no  craft  nor 
faict  of  merchandise,  have  come  into  this  realm,  and 
gone  from  shire  to  shire  and  place  to  place  in  great 


*  From  which  come  the  modern  Gauner  and  Gaunerthuvi,  re- 
sembling, but  more  significant  than  our  Vagabond  and  Vaga- 
bondage. 


ON  VAGABONDS.  329 

company,  and  used  great  subtle,  and  crafty  means 
to  deceive  the  people,  bearing  them  in  hand,  that 
they,  by  palmistry,  could  tell  men's  and  women's 
fortunes,  and  also  have  committed  many  and  heinous 
felonies  and  robberies."  The  Gipsies  were  fairly 
loose  upon  Europe;  vagrants  by  descent  and  pro- 
fession ;  incapable  of  either  rest  or  honesty  ;  with 
the  low  cunning  and  subtlety  of  Asiatics  ;  systematic 
thieves  ;  a  vagabond  knight-errantry.  The  beggar 
assumed  a  more  distinct  and  formidable  type — part 
gipsy,  part  soldier,  part  monk.  The  land  was  full 
of  low  adventurers,  wandering  priests,  barefoot  friars, 
discharged  soldiers,  schoolmasters  and  their  scholars, 
artisans  out  of  work,  streaming  vagrantly  hither  and 
thither,  setting  all  the  loose  population  afoot.  And 
when  the  Reformation  came  and  closed  the  monas- 
teries, and  swept  clean  round  the  church  doors. 
Vagabondage  received  a  final  accession,  and  the  con- 
vent pauper  became  an  unwilling  tramp. 

Meanwhile  for  two  centuries  there  was  a  Golden 
Age  of  beggars.  They  grew  into  coi-porations  with 
corporate  rights.  Permission  to  beg  was  granted 
with  legal  forms.  They  had  certain  citadels,  like 
the  Kohlenberg  in  Basel ;  free  quarters,  from  which 
they   rushed   out   to   prey   upon   the   town.     They 


330  ON   VAGABONDS. 

rose  to  the  dignity  of  a  profession,  and  paid  income- 
tax.  The  beggar  who  had  begged  his  five  pounds' 
weight  of  coppers  had  entrance  to  the  infirmary. 
In  Labeck  he  paid  sixpence  a  year  to  the  town 
dues.  Poetry  stooped  down,  and  painted  him  in 
the  hues  of  romance.  In  a  restless  and  unsettled 
age  men  turned  vagrants  in  the  same  spirit  of 
adventure  that  had  led  their  fathers  to  the  Holy 
Sepulchre,  and  the  Knights  of  the  Round  Table 
in  quest  of  the  Sangreal.  Eobin  Hood  and  Rob 
Roy  were  no  better  than  they  should  be,  plain 
vagabonds,  and  thieves,  but  that  the  one  wore  Lin- 
coln green,  and  the  other  the  kilt,  and  the  Muses 
dealt  kindly  with  them  both.  Prince  Hal,  with  all 
respect  to  his  friend  Falstaff,  was  a  highwayman. 
And  long  after,  a  certain  low  and  shabby  romance 
clung  to  the  vagabond.  A  century  ago  he  was  the 
pet  of  fine  ladies.  They  visited  him  in  prison,  kept 
mementoes  of  him  from  Tyburn,  pressed  round  his 
scaffold  for  farewell  of  a  hero.  The  thief  became 
the  property  of  the  story-teller ;  our  worthy  an- 
cestors crowded  to  see  The  Beggars  Opera;  there 
were  even  noble  marriages  contracted  with  the 
slums.  And  through  Schiller's  Bobbers  we  can  see 
the  same  feeling,  as  it  existed  at  the  close  of  last 


ON   VAGABONDS.  331 

century,  when  Buckler  overran  the  Netherlands, 
and  made  his  name  of  Schinderhannes  almost  his- 
toric; and  Pickard,  with  his  "tangled  coal-black 
beard  and  flaming  eye,"  proclaimed  himself  king  of 
the  midnight,  and  the  village  of  Mersen  on  the 
Maas  was  only  a  robber's  den. 

The  Golden  Age  has  passed  away.  The  beggar's 
immunities  have  perished.  The  highwayman  has 
disappeared  from  our  roads.  The  poetry  has  faded  ; 
and  thieves'  stories  are  only  chaunted  in  thieves' 
haunts.  But  Vagabondage  survives,  and  has  grown 
into  a  riper  system  and  a  deeper  wrong.  It  has 
been  slowly  perfecting  itself;  gathering  strength 
from  various  quarters,  wisdom  from  the  lore  of 
centuries.  It  sprang  from  the  dead  Church,  of  the 
Middle  Ages ;  it  was  moulded  by  a  Judaism  as  dead, 
and  by  Asiatic  heathenism.  It  grew  up  under  the 
shadow  of  Christian  forms ;  masked  itself  in  Christ- 
ian phrases ;  copied  ecclesiastical  orders ;  imaged 
out  on  the  side  of  evil  what  the  Church  strove  to 
represent  on  the  side  of  good.  It  is  an  orderly 
structure  of  disorder,  an  organization  of  all  the 
elements  of  disorganization.  The  old  kingdom  of 
Beggardom  is  but  a  minor  province  in  the  present 
kingdom  of  the  vagabonds.     They  have  become  a 


332  ON    VAGABONDS. 

mighty  power,  arrayed  against  social  order ;  swarm- 
ing in  the  purlieus  of  our  great  cities,  and  lurking 
in  quiet  country  districts ;  set  to  do  wrong  as  the 
calling  of  their  life ;  existing  in  despite  of  law  and 
police  and  Christian  churches  ;  sullen,  determined, 
on  the  whole  increasing.  They  stand  out,  a  dark 
huge  mass  ;  that  is,  to  those  who  see  it.  For  there 
are  some,  too  far  off,  too  easy  and  pleasant  in  their 
lives,  to  know  what  it  is,  to  whom  faint  tidings  of  it 
are  borne,  but  as  of  something  vague  and  dream- 
like. And  there  are  many  who  see  it,  and  ignore 
it ;  leave  it  in  the  hands  of  the  Government  and 
police,  and  go  their  way.  And  it  is  not  a  pleasant 
thought.  But  it  is  reality ;  a  reality  that  must  be 
faced  as  boldly  as  it  faces  us,  to  which  the  Christian 
turns  as  to  the  saddest  and  darkest  of  unsolved 
problems,  and  yet  a  problem  for  which  he,  if  any, 
should  have  the  solution. 

Most  curious  perhaps  of  its  characteristics  is 
that  it  is  a  corporation  based  upon  imposture  ;  a 
corporation  of  various  trades,  which  are  filled  up  as 
professions  are  in  common  life,  and  every  trade  a 
cheat.  Mr.  Mayhew  mentions  about  a  hundred  and 
twenty-six  varieties  of  persons  who  will  not  work. 
An  author  of  a   hundred  years  ago  specifies  three 


ON   VAGABONDS.  333 

hundred  ways  of  getting  a  dishonest  living  !  The 
classic  authority  on  the  subject,  and  to  which  Luther 
has  added  a  singular  fame  by  writing  a  singular 
and  characteristic  preface — the  Liher  Vagatorum  of 
1527 — betrays  the  very  same  feature,  and  reveals 
the  antiquity  of  the  imposition,  and  the  conserva- 
tive reverence  with  which  it  has  been  handed  down. 
This  book  mentions  the  Lossners,  "  knaves  who  say 
they  lay  in  captivity  among  the  infidel,"  and  an- 
swering to  our  shipwrecked  mariners.  There  are 
the  Klenkers,  who  "  sit  at  the  church-doors  with  sore 
and  broken  legs,  and  all  the  while  as  little  ails  them 
as  other  men."  "At  Schlestad  one  was  sitting  at 
the  church-door.  This  man  had.  cut  the  leg  of  a 
thief  from  the  gallows.  He  put  on  the  dead  leg, 
and  tied  his  own  leg  up.  He  had  a  quarrel  with 
another  beggar.  This  one  ran  off,  and  told  the 
town-serjeant.  When  he  saw  the  serjeant  coming 
he  flew,  and  left  the  sore  leg  behind  him — a  horse 
could  hardly  have  overtaken  him."  There  are  the 
Salvers,  who  "besmear  themselves  with  salve,  and 
lie  down  before  the  churches,  looking  as  though  they 
had  been  ill  a  long  time."  Of  these  and  the  like  the 
author  says  warmly,  "Give  them  a  kick  if  thou 
canst."     ScaldruTYb   and   other    "  dodges "    are   still 


334  ON  VAGABONDS. 

practised  in  London.  Mayliew  was  informed  of  a 
man  who  had  pricked  the  flesh  of  his  leg  all  over  to 
draw  pity  ;  and  reports  another  "  whose  right  sleeve 
hung  loose  at  his  side,  and  there  appeared  to  be 
nothing  left  of  his  arm  but  a  short  stump.  On 
being  examined  at  the  police-office^  his  arai  was 
found  strapped  to  his  side,  and  the  stump  turned 
out  to  be  a  stuffing  of  bran."  There  are  the 
Bohissers,  "  who  beg  alms  to  repair  a  ruined  chapel," 
and  two  of  whom  drove  a  great  trade  in  Ireland 
some  months  ago  ;  the  Strollers,  "  exorcisers  of  the 
devil  for  hail,  storm,  and  witchcraft"  (also  not  un- 
common in  some  English  counties) ;  the  Sclileppers, 
abounding  in  the  Black  Forest,  false  priests  who 
collect  for  an  altar-cloth,  and  release  souls  out  of 
purgatory  at  a  penny  a  piece  ;  the  Dallingers,  who 
have  been  hangmen,  and  who  whip  themselves  with 
rods  before  the  churches ;  and  "  when  they  have 
practised  for  awhile,  and  cheated  many  people,  they 
become  hangmen  again  as  before  ; "  the  Suntwegers, 
who  "  say  they  have  taken  a  man's  life  away  in  self- 
defence,  and,  unless  they  bring  back  a  sum  of 
money  at  the  right  time,  their  heads  will  be  cut 
off ; "  there  are  pretended  noblemen  and  mercers, 
"  clothed   prettily  and   with   neatness  ;  "    "  baptized 


ON   VAGABONDS.  335 

Jewesses,  who  can  tell  people  whether  their  fathers 
or  mothers  are  in  hell  or  not;"  those  who  bon'ow 
children ;  Gensscherer,  or  distressed  mechanics,  who 
are  ashamed  to  beg ;  Sefeldiggers,  who  can  find  hid 
treasures ;  tinkers,  who  "  mayhap  will  break  a  hole 
in  thy  kettle  with  a  stick  or  a  knife,  to  give  work  to 
a  multitude  of  others;"  and  Grunterers,  "who  fall 
down  before  the  churches  with  a  piece  of  soap  in 
their  mouths,  whereby  the  foam  rises  as  big  as  a 
fist,  and  they  prick  their  nostrils  with  a  straw, 
causing  them  to  bleed,  as  though  they  had  the 
falling  sickness." 

Some  of  these  tricks  are  disappearing;  others 
have  been  developed  with  greater  skill.  Begging 
letters  were  in  their  infancy  then ;  but  Czapo- 
linski,  our  contemporary,  makes  from  £20  to  £60 
a  day.  The  Mendicity  Society  found  the  writer 
of  a  "  most  touching  letter  "  crouching  in  a  miser- 
able London  gan^et ;  and  found  again  that  he  lived 
handsomely  with  his  wife  and  family  in  another  part 
of  the  town.  The  romantic  "  Kaggs  "  family  lived 
for  years  "  in  a  sort  of  vulgar  luxury,  at  no  cost  but 
invention,  falsehood,  and  a  ream  or  so  of  paper." 
x\n  old  man  about  Russell  Square  ''  will  pick  up 
a  small  piece  of  bread  which  has  been  thrown  out 


336  ON   VAGABONDS. 

to  the  sparrows,  wipe  it  on  his  velveteen  coat,  and 
begin  to  eat  it.  I  followed  him  one  day,"  says  Mr. 
Mayhew,  "  into  a  low  beer-shop  in  St.  Giles's,  and 
found  him  comfortably  seated  with  his  feet  up  on 
a  chair,  smoking  a  long  pipe,  and  discussing  a  pot 
of  ale."  There  are  men  who  throw  themselves  into 
the  Serpentine  on  the  chance  of  a  glass  of  brandy 
when  they  are  pulled  out.  In  1816,  a  Commons' 
committee  reported  of  children  let  out  by  the  day  at 
half-a-crown  :  of  a  woman  who  had  sat  ten  years  at 
a  corner  with  twins  that  never  grew  older ;  of  beg- 
gars who  paid  50s.  a  week  for  their  board ;  and  of 
one  negro  beggar  who  retired  to  the  West  Indies 
with  a  fortune  of  £1500.  "  The  personal  appearance 
of  the  vagabond,"  says  one  writer,  "  is  itself  a  bodily 
lie."  The  body  is  altered  in  height  and  character. 
In  one  instance  alteration  of  height  was  made  at  six 
different  times,  varying  from  three  to  four  inches. 
Another  lived  seventeen  months  at  Lubeck  with  a 
high  shoulder  and  a  stiff  finger,  and  would  have 
been  arrested  afterwards  at  another  place,  but  for 
having  neither.  The  face  and  hands  are  often 
marked  with  lunar  caustic.  More  recently  a  skilful 
tattooing  has  been  discovered,  which  presently  dis- 
appears on  the  colouring  stuff  being  absorbed  by  the 


ON   VAGABONDS.  337 

lymphatic  glands.  Even  dumbness  has  been  feigned 
successfully  for  many  years.  A  Berlin  Jew  once 
robbed  a  grave  Canon  in  his  hotel,  and  among  the 
ducats  in  his  strong-box  he  found  the  apparatus  for 
housebreaking. 

Imposture  is  the  universal  sign  from  the  beggars' 
dependant  (for  there  is  even  lower  than  the  beggar) 
to  the  ticket-of-leave  man.  All  Vagabondage  is  a 
swindle.  But  yet  it  is  true  to  itself  In  no  other 
way  would  its  coherence  and  persistence  be  ex- 
plicable. It  is  held  together  by  rigid  and  careful 
bonds,  by  mutual  trust  and  mutual  interest.  It 
is  worked  on  a  definite  plan  ;  a  huge  secret  society 
issuing  its  edicts  and  passwords,  distributing  its 
forces,  maintaining  its  communications  with  all 
the  capitals  of  Europe,  passing  its  members  from 
place  to  place,  on  the  alert  for  every  crime,  in 
universal  watchfulness  of  every  police.  One  close 
bond  is  their  relationship  ;  what  passes  for  mar- 
riage with  them  being  in  most  cases  intermarriage. 
Another  is  secresy.  No  pains  are  spared  to  keep 
it.  Prisons  have  been  stormed  for  no  other  reason 
than  to  relieve  prisoners  who  might  have  betrayed 
their  fellows,  or  even  their  crime.  A  comrade  of 
Picard  began  to  inform.      Picard  freed   him,  went 


338  ON  VAGABONDS. 

to  a  robbery  with  him,  and  shot  him  on  the  way. 
One  of  a  robber's  gang  concealed  two  crowns  of 
the  common  plunder,  and  his  companions  tortured 
him  to  death.  Wichern  has  observed  the  same 
darkened  honour  in  Berlin.  If  a  thief,  he  says, 
has  stolen  2500  crowns,  and  reports  only  2000  to  his 
companions,  woe  to  him  !  They  are  sure  to  find 
out  the  true  sum  from  the  police  reports.  The 
least  punishment  is  a  brand  in  the  cheek  to  make 
the  traitor  known ;  and  the  informer  has  often  to 
be  transported  for  safety,  a  questionable  safety 
when  this  underground  Vehmgericht  compasses  the 
world. 

A  third  bond  they  owe  to  the  Gipsies  ;  besides 
giving  Beggardom  the  vagabond  impulse,  the  Gipsies 
gave  it  speech,  and  taught  it  the  use  of  a  secret 
tongue.  Stragglers  who  joined  them  were  unac- 
quainted with  the  so-called  Egyptian,  but  seem  to 
have  gathered  its  vocabulary  with  that  quickness  of 
cunning  which  belongs  to  evil.  The  Egyptians,  in 
turn,  picked  up  words  from  the  countries  through 
which  they  passed.  Fresh  words  were  being  con- 
tinually coined ;  and  little  rivulets  of  speech  were 
always  flowing  into  the  great  stream,  from  the 
Church  mendicants  of  the  Middle  Ages,  with  their 


ON   VAGABONDS.  339 

religious  slang,  the  Jew  fences,  witli  their  Hebrew- 
German,  and  the  Lingua  Franca,  down  to  the 
modern  Cadger's  cant.  A  composite  language  was 
thus  formed,  by  which  vagabonds  in  every  part  of 
Europe,  and  possibly  in  the  jDarts  beyond  Europe, 
communicate  with  each  other,  which  none  but 
vagabonds  understand,  commonly  a  traditional, 
rarely  a  written  speech,  in  which  their  secrets  are 
lodged,  beyond  the  ken  of  keen-sighted  policemen, 
and  hitherto  of  keener-sighted  philology.  Its  basis 
would  seem  to  be  oriental.  Many  of  the  primitive 
words  have  been  traced  to  Hebrew  and  Sanscrit. 
In  a  page  or  two  of  the  vocabulary  of  the  Liber 
Vagatorum  occur  the  Hebrew  words  for  priest, 
bread,  flesh,  house,  God.  The  various  orders  of 
thieves  in  Germany  have  Hebrew  names ;  the  two 
classes  of  thieves'  implements  are  called  Great  and 
Little  Purim.  An  Indian  friend,  looking  over  Mr. 
Hotten's  dictionary  the  other  day,  recognised  a  crowd 
of  words  that  are  still  used  in  Gujerati  slang.  The 
Latin  of  the  friars  survives  in  such  common  words  as 
"  patter "  (paternoster)  and  "  fake  "  (facere)  ;  and 
tliere  are  names  of  common  coins  that  sprung  up 
under  the  classic  shade  of  Rome.  Dr.  Latham  de- 
clares that   "  the   thieves   of  London   are  the  con- 

z  2 


340  ON   VAGABONDS. 

servators  of  Anglo-Saxon  isms ;"  there  are  phrases 
of  Shakespeare  and  Ben  Jonson,  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher,  to  be  heard  now  only  at  the  Seven  Dials 
or  the  New  Cut.  Each  country  appears  to  have 
grafted  its  own  vocabulary  on  the  old  stock,  and 
the  English,  by  virtue  of  our  insulation,  is  the  most 
distinct  of  any.  It  is  peculiar  also  for  its  variety- 
slang  that  must  be  read  backwards,  slang  that  is 
merely  euphonious,  cant  by  multiplication  of  conso- 
nants, and  cant  by  transposition  of  consonants. 
Lascars  and  Malays,  Genoese  and  Danes,  have  con- 
tributed their  quota ;  there  are  odd  words  selected 
for  their  unmeaningness,  words  that  have  been 
coined  in  some  brilliant  vagabond  inspiration,  and 
words  that  have  been  transmitted  through  the 
various  grades  of  society  -until  both  usage  and 
spelling  have  made  them  new.  This  outer  region 
of  the  vagabond's  tongue  is  marked  by  great  fluctu- 
ation, by  the  same  alteration  of  sense  in  words  that 
are  retained,  and  the  same  dropping  of  words  once 
popular,  that  characterise  our  English  itself.  The 
subject  is  one  which  cannot  be  pursued  here ;  it 
demands,  by  its  importance  and  extent,  separate 
treatment.  But  the  fact  of  a  secret  language  is 
clear;  a  language  spoken  in  our  own  streets,  yet 


ON   VAGABONDS.  341 

unintelligible  to  us ;  spoken  in  every  great  capital, 
yet  unintelligible  in  each  ;  the  tbieves'  and  beggars' 
vade  TYiecum  ;  the  sign  of  a  people  that  in  this  as- 
pect resemble  only  the  Jews,  scattered  through  every 
nation,  and  combining  with  none.  And  this  lan- 
guage reveals  the  degradation  of  that  people  in  the 
most  appalling  form  ;  turning  the  holiest  words  to 
the  basest  uses,  invei'ting  every  principle  of  honour 
and  morals,  laughing  at  sin  through  some  whimsical 
cant,  twisting  all  social  order  and  Christian  life  into 
a  Satanic  burlesque,  making  a  onock  at  sin;  the 
very  language  of  sin  itself,  where  every  phrase  con- 
ceals an  assault  upon  virtue,  without  a  word  for 
goodness,  or  purity,  or  honour. 

A  society  constructed  out  of  such  elements  as  this, 
maintaining  its  unity  by  such  a  tongue,  and  yet 
holding  together  for  centuries  undecayed,  is  surely 
as  awful  a  proof  as  need  be  of  the  mystery  of  evil. 
But  it  has  still  another  bond  of  secret  communica- 
tion. A  clergyman  whose  pastoral  work  led  him  for 
two  years  through  a  thieves'  quarter,  tells  us,  that 
"a  gesture  which  may  seem  unmeaning  to  the 
passer-by  would  make  him  quake  with  fear  if  he 
knew  its  significance."  "  Every  movement  of  the 
eye  and  mouth,"  says  another  writer,  "  every  shufEing 


342  ON    VAGABONDS. 

of  the  feet,  the  touching  of  the  neck  or  mouth  or 
hair,  a  cough,  a  hem,  a  sneeze,  let  it  seem  never  so 
accidental,  is  a  sign."  There  is  a  finger  alphabet, 
commonly  practised  with  one  finger;  words  are 
traced  by  the  finger  in  the  air,  or,  in  the  dark,  on 
the  hand  of  a  comrade  ;  the  finger  letter  C  carelessly 
made  as  the  hand  lies  carelessly  on  the  table  an- 
nounces one  of  the  order ;  a  peculiar  wink  conveys  a 
mystery.  There  is  a  vagabond  heraldry  by  which 
every  vagabond  has  his  crest,  and  every  profession 
its  coat  of  arms;  and  the  vagabond  who  should 
assume  his  neighbour's  quarterings  would  atone  for 
it  in  blood.  His  crest  may  be  either  out  of  the 
world  of  animals  or  Euclid,  a  horse  or  a  parallel- 
ogram ;  sometimes  a  cross  wound  round  with  a  ser- 
pent ;  perhaps  a  A^isor  over  a  fox.  As  inviolable  as 
his  heraldry  is  his  nom  de  plume ;  the  Jews  having 
the  manufacture  of  this  article,  and  furnishing  to  the 
world  of  vagabonds  at  least  one  apiece.  The  thieves' 
arms  are  a  key  pierced  by  an  arrow ;  in  the  beggars', 
the  arrow  pierces  a  heart ;  it  figures  also  in  the 
gamblers'  through  three  dice.  The  arrow,  sur- 
mounted by  a  black  globe,  signifies  fear  of  capture  ; 
a  stroke  with  a  twisted  line  about  it  signifies  an  ex- 
ploit ;  a  line  attached  to  this  points  out  the  way  the 


ON  VAGABONDS.  343 

writer  has  gone;  the  hooks  above  the  line  are  for 
men,  those  below  for  the  women ;  the  cipher  above 
for  the  leader's  children — he  being  marked  by  his 
crest ;  those  below  for  the  children  of  the  rest ;  even 
the  date  may  be  as  openly  written  as  1/12/62.  In 
1724,  Gipsies  are  described  as  "  sticking  up  boughs 
of  divers  kinds,  that  one  company  may  know  which 
way  another  is  gone ; "  in  1852,  they  are  described 
performing  the  same  office  by  ''strewing  handfuls  of 
grass  at  a  foot  lane  or  cross  roads,  by  a  cross  made 
on  the  ground  with  a  stick  or  knife,  and  by  a  cleft 
stick  placed  in  a  fence.  The  marks  are  always 
placed  on  the  left-hand  side."  The  hieroglyphics  are 
as  old  as  the  fifth  century,  and  once  we  find  them 
there,  who  can  say  how  much  older?  They  are 
made  with  coal,  or  chalk,  or  pencil;  sometimes  in 
the  sand  or  snow.  They  are  found  on  churches, 
public  buildings,  inns,  mile-stones,  solitary  trees.  A 
Government  report  from  Hampshire  speaks  of  them 
as  "on  corners  of  streets,  on  door-posts,  and  on 
house-steps.  The  murderer's  signal  is  even  exhibited 
from  the  gallows ;  as  a  red  handkerchief  held  in  the 
hand  of  a  felon  about  to  be  executed,  is  a  token  that 
he  dies  without  having  betrayed  any  professional 
secrets."     Few  notice  these  secrets,  though  they  are 


344  ON  VAGABONDS. 

common  enough  on  the  ways  into  any  town;   the 
country  peasants  who   see   them   are   superstitious     • 
enough  to  preserve  them. 

These  are  but  some  of  the  characteristics  of  this 
strange  world.  Many  as  curious  might  be  noticed  ; 
their  superstitions  and  the  connection  these  have 
with  Tahnudical  writings ;  their  mystical  and  caba- 
listic letters ;  their  class  distinctions  and  rigid 
etiquette  ;  their  peculiar  science ;  their  common 
physical  t3rpe ;  the  adaptation  of  their  industries  to 
the  seasons  and  fashions;  their  knowledge  of  the 
polite  world  and  its  movements  ;  their  schools  for 
teaching  their  language  and  craft;  their  haughty 
contempt  of  all  the  world  beside,  as  a  Jew  might 
speak  of  a  Gentile,  or  a  German  student  of  the 
Philister.  But  they  are  there  before  our  doors ; 
stealing  up  our  streets;  plotting  against  our  pro- 
perty; darkening  our  feasts;  a  kingdom  of  dark- 
ness, of  which  we  learn  by  police  reports,  at  which 
we  shudder  when  some  more  evil  and  daring  spirit 
glides  out  of  it — some  Williams,  or  Dumollard,  or 
Karl  Maasch,  or  Catherine  Wilson — smiting  down  a 
score  of  victims  with  a  single  hand,  but  which  men 
turn  to  wearily  and  unwillingly,  as  to  the  inevitable. 
What  is  to  be  done  with  it  ?     Repression  has  been 


ON  VAGABONDS.  345 

tried,  and  it  may  be  said,  failed.  Before  Luther's 
time,  a  beggar  tbat  was  caught  in  theft  was  incon- 
tinently drowned.  Whipping  and  burning,  the  stocks 
and  the  gallows,  ear-slitting,  and  even  slavery,  were 
abundantly  used  by  our  forefathers,  and  Henry  VIII. 
has  the  credit  of  hanging  72,000  rogues  and  vaga- 
bonds. Yet  beggars  and  thieves  flourished  apace, 
and  made  it  a  savage  war  of  reprisals ;  "  burnt  carts 
laden  with  charcoal,  set  fire  to  heaps  of  felled  wood, 
barked  apple  and  pear  trees,  and  cut  out  the  tongues 
of  cattle  and  the  ears  of  the  king's  subjects."  Master 
Franz  of  Nuremberg,  relates,  that  from  1573-1615 
he  put  861  to  death,  and  tortured  375  others  in  that 
district  alone.  At  Giessen  in  1726,  five  were  broken 
on  the  wheel,  nine  hanged,  and  eleven  beheaded. 
At  Gotha  a  lunatic  vagabond  was  slowly  butchered 
by  seven  sword-strokes.  In  France,  forty  were  shut 
up  in  a  house  that  was  then  mined,  and  blown  into 
the  air.  Schinderhannes  was  guillotined  with  nine- 
teen of  his  band  at  Mayence.  And  still  the  evil 
grew  under  the  very  hands  of  justice ;  in  apparent 
subsidence  in  one  century,  but  only  to  rise  with 
greater  force  in  the  next.  Kepression  of  the  severest 
was  ineffectual,  and  with  our  present  time  there 
came  milder  measures. 


346  ON  VAGABONDS. 

A  more  humane  and  compreliensive  Poor-Law 
was  established,  on  the  principle  that  it  was  as 
much  the  duty  of  the  nation  to  care  for  its  poor  as 
to  have  an  army  or  a  fleet ;  that  the  poor  could  not 
be  banished ;  that  the  vagi-ant  must  have  at  least 
the  option  of  shelter.  Poor-houses  rose  up  over  the 
country ;  poor-rates  were  levied ;  and  men  were 
content.  It  was  a  contrast  to  the  older  time  when 
the  magistrate  fixed  the  days  a  beggar  should  take 
from  place  to  place,  and  if  they  were  exceeded,  the 
unfortunate  tramp  was  whipped  through  every  vil- 
lage on  the  rest  of  his  route.  Prison  discipline  was 
revised,  and  based  upon  juster  views.  It  was  made 
correctional  as  well  as  punitive.  The  prisoner 
might  be  a  vagabond ;  but  he  was  treated  like  a 
human  vagabond,  not  like  an  evil  beast.  And  the 
theory  of  con-ectional  prisons  and  reforming  pri- 
soners by  discipline,  was  pushed  far  enough,  so  far 
that  the  vagabond  prefers  the  prison  to  the  work- 
house, and  the  worst  of  all  criminals  is  a  ticket-of- 
leave  man.  Yet  somehow  Vagabondage  increases, 
and  is  almost  as  daring  and  terrible  in  1862  as  in 
the  days  of  the  Mohawks,  and  the  gentlemen  of  the 
road.  If  the  mendicant  has  slunk  away,  the  men- 
dicant spirit  is  rife.     And  in  spite  of  the  Poor  Laws. 


ON  VAGABONDS.  347 

there  are  beggars,  and  perhaps  not  altogether  by 
their  own  fault.  Vagabondage  is  there,  and  what 
is  to  be  done  ? 

From  the  Huguenot  wars  up  till  now  there  have 
been  a  million  professed  vagabonds  in  Germany : 
their  families  and  auxiliaries  have  been  at  least 
three  millions  more.  Take  an  English  county  like 
Yorkshire,  or  two  like  Hereford  and  Berks.  People 
them  with  vagabonds  as  thick  as  they  are  peopled 
now  with  honest  men.  Put  the  inns  and  public- 
houses  into  their  hands.  Let  the  children  in  the 
streets  be  vagabond  children ;  let  the  green  lanes  be 
walked  by  vagrants  and  thieves ;  let  them  fill  every 
town.  Let  their  speech  be  as  different  from  ours 
as  Dutch  from  English  ;  their  history  and  traditions 
purely  criminal ;  their  instincts  against  order ; 
their  secresy  and  organisation  perfect ;  their  morals, 
immorality;  their  knowledge  of  God  derived  from 
oaths ;  without  sense  of  either  sin  or  righteousness. 
That  is  something  like  the  evil  that  faces  us  ; 
that  has  grown  up  as  part  of  our  social  life  and 
system  ;  that  is  in  the  very  heart  of  a  Christian 
nation.  Are  detectives  and  constables  and  gaolers 
the  best  missionaries  to  send  into  such  a  region  ? 
Is  there  any  likelihood   that  they  will   change   it? 


348  ON   VAGABONDS. 

Is  it  seemly  that  this  work  should  be  given  over  to 
them  ?  Nay,  as  long  as  that  is  our  only  remedy,  we 
may  be  hopeless  of  anything  but  mere  safety  from 
this  Vagabondage,  if  even  that.  And,  is  it  not  to 
be  held  as  a  reproach  on  a  Christian  nation  that 
this  Vagabonds'  Kingdom  should  exist  in  it  at  all ; 
a  reproach  on  a  Christian  Church  that  has  not  used 
the  remedies  within  its  reach ;  that  has  not  acted 
by  faith  in  the  mighty  power  of  God  for  the  over- 
throw of  sin  ?  It  is  peculiarly  a  question  for  the 
Christian  Church.  There,  if  anywhere,  men  will 
look  for  the  redress  of  social  wrongs,  and  the  remedy 
for  social  evils.  If  the  Church  gives  it  over,  is  it 
likely  that  philanthropy  or  law  will  succeed  ? 
Christian  effort — of  the  Church,  of  the  individual — 
is  the  last  hope ;  but  by  faith  there  is  more  than 
hope  in  it.  There  are  points  of  contact  which  any 
honest,  hearty  Christian  will  find  enough. 

"The  Vagabond,"  says  Dr.  Ave-Lallemant,  with 
every  right  to  speak,  "  is  not  incurable ;  it  is  hard 
to  improve  him,  but  no  genuine  Christian  work  is 
easy."  He  has  strong  affections.  Marriage  scarcely 
exists  for  him,  though  sometimes  the  form  is  gone 
through  in  mockery,  with  one  vagabond  for  clergy- 
man and  another  for  sexton;  their  so-called  wives 


ON  VAGABONDS.  349 

are  exchanged  as  a  matter  of  business  for  a  poodle 
or  five  crowns  ;  a  long  sentence  authorizes  a  tempo- 
rary divorce  ;  and  their  union  is  always  dissoluble 
by  considerations  of  policy  and  selfishness.  Yet 
there  is  affection,  capable  of  much  sacrifice,  cele- 
brated in  some  of  their  ballads,  revealing  some  hid- 
den softness  and  purity.  A  mother  has  been  known 
to  carry  the  dead  body  of  her  child  for  days,  and 
would  not  leave  it  in  her  flight.  "  I  should  just 
like  to  make  one  last  theft,"  said  a  cruel  Dutch 
robber  to  his  confessor,  as  they  went  to  the  block. 
"  What  ? "  replied  the  Capuchin,  confounded.  "  Just 
that ;  and  then  I  would  take  the  money,  and  give  it 
to  the  Ursuline  nuns,  and  they  would  bring  up  a 
certain  poor  child  I  know,  that  must  otherwise 
perish."  Schinderhannes  was  always  very  tender  to 
his  father ;  and  Hans  to  the  last  honoured  with  all 
obedience  the  parent  who  ruined  him.  Their  cal- 
lousness arises  as  much  from  ignorance  as  from 
deliberate  criminal  purpose.  "  What  religion  are 
you  ? "  was  asked  of  a  robber  in  1812.  "  One  about 
as  much  as  the  other.  My  mother  taught  me  as 
many  prayers  as  got  me  confirmed ;  but  I  am  cer- 
tainly no  Jew."  "  You  know  that  robbery  and 
stealing  are  forbidden  ? "     "  Yes,  I  knew  that,  but  I 


350  ON  VAGABONDS, 

never  knew  it  was  sinJ'  Some  Wiirtemberg  pastors 
visited  a  certain  notorious  Constanzer  Hans  in 
prison.  He,  too,  had  never  been  taught  of  sin,  and 
when  he  learned  it  from  their  lips,  it  was  like  scales 
falling  from  his  eyes.  He  died  a  thoroughly 
changed  maru 

It  may  look  at  first  like  a  blind  groping  in  a  dark 
world,  but  these  rays  of  tenderness  and  conscience 
throw  some  light  and  hope  into  it.  And  they  throw 
hght  upon  the  remedy.  Whose  fault  is  it  but  the 
fault  of  the  Christian  Church  that  these  men  know 
nothing  of  sin?  Who  is  to  teach  them  that,  if 
Christians  will  not  1  And  Avhat  hope  is  there  of  a 
thief  giving  up  theft  merely  because  law  forbids  it  ? 
The  police  and  the  prisons  are  on  the  one  side,  but 
balanced  on  the  other  by  excitement,  adventure,  the 
outlaw's  revenge  upon  society,  and  the  difficulty  of 
an  honest  calling.  Let  the  vagabond  be  smitten 
with  the  sense  of  sin,  dealt  with  in  a  patient,  man- 
ful spirit  by  those  whom  God  has  taught  both  of  sin 
and  redemption  ;  and  there  is  hojDe  to  see  him 
"  clothed  and  in  his  right  mind."  But  we  dare  not 
approach  him  as  the  only  guilty  one.  Whatever  in 
us  and  in  our  social  life  has  helped  to  make  him 
what  he  is,  has  made  us  guilty  hkewise.     Nor  dare 


ON  VAGABONDS.  351 

we  come  with  anything  Hke  dead  sermonising,  like 
that  old  preacher  of  last  century,  who  put  128 
questions  to  every  convict,  and  made  him  repeat  as 
many  printed  answers.  It  must  be  in  the  power  of 
a  living  faith,  and  with  the  keen  perceptions  of  a 
Christian  conscience,  and  a  love  that  can  endure  all 
things.  And  the  work  is  but  begun  when  the  single 
soul  is  rescued.  It  is  not  enough  to  reclaim  the 
vagabond,  and  then  leave  him  to  the  mercies  of 
a  suspicious  public.  That  same  Gospel  which  is 
preached  to  the  solitary  sinner  is  good  for  the  order 
of  the  world.  Social  reform  is  not  even  to  go  hand 
in  hand  with  the  gospel,  but  it  is  part  of  it.  For 
the  spiritual  and  personal  relations  of  man  are  not 
given  over  to  Christians  ;  the  social  and  material 
to  legislators  and  philanthropists;  but  the  entire 
man  is  the  domain  of  God's  work,  and  of  every 
Christian  as  fellow-worker  with  God,  and  the  work 
must  go  on  until  society  is  set  upon  a  righteous 
basis,  built  up  in  purity,  truth,  unselfishness,  and 
sympathy. 

Reformatories  and  Ragged  Schools  are  admirable; 
in  a  time  when  vagabondage  is  signalised  by  its 
juvenile  crime,  they  are  above  all  needed.  But  it  is 
not  enough  to  have  them.     Least  of  all  is  it  seemly 


352 


ON  VAGABONDS. 


for  the  Christian  Church  to  stand  by,  and  let  others 
work  them,  or  throw  them  with  every  other  heavy 
burden  upon  the  Government.  They  are  the  direct 
concern  of  every  Christian  man  and  woman ;  they 
will  be  effectual  just  in  proportion  as  Christian  men 
and  women  work  them  ;  they  will  never  get  beyond 
the  awkwardness  of  an  experiment  until  we  recog- 
nise them  as  a  personal  Christian  duty.  Work- 
houses and  poor-laws  are  also  admirable ;  institu- 
tions that  mark  more  than  any  other  the  progress 
and  humanity  of  our  century.  But  they  will  not 
make  an  end  of  mendicancy.  Luther  saw  towards 
the  right  way  when  he  wrote  that  "  every  town  and 
village  should  know  their  own  paupers,  as  written 
down  in  the  registry,  and  assist  them."  Falk  saw 
it  more  clearly  at  Weimar.  Chalmers  proved  it  in 
the  great  cities.  In  Erlangen,  in  Bavaria,  the  poor 
are  managed  on  the  principle  that  the  Church  is 
their  proper  caretaker  and  administrator  of  the 
highest  and  most  authoritative  poor-law  ;  and  Pastor 
Schunk's  reports  are  of  singular  interest  and  en- 
couragement. The  great  experiment  at  Elberfeld 
is  as  vigorous  as  ever.  And  it  is  in  this  direction 
that  we  must  move  upon  Beggardom.  It  is  a 
Christian  enterprise  in  which  none  but  Christians 


ON  VAGABONDS.  353 

can  thoroughly  overcome.  It  is  peculiarly  the  busi- 
ness of  the  Church,  of  the  Christian  congregation,  of 
the  individual.  It  is  only  by  personal  Christian 
contact  with  it  that  Vagabondage  can  be  lessened 
and  finally  cured.  Otherwise  it  wiU  be  a  perpetual 
tax  upon  the  State,  a  constant  apprehension,  a 
fearful  reproach. 


A  X 


LEBEECHT    FEIEDEFELD'S    TKIALS. 


[ROWN  old  and  grey  in  service,  and  still 
the  same  slender  salary,  and  no  hope 
of  promotion."  So  sighed  the  good  old 
schoolmaster,  Lebrecht  Friedefeld,  as  he  sorrowfully 
contemplated  a  little  heap  of  silver  pieces  that  lay 
before  him  on  the  plain  deal  table  that  almost  filled 
his  tiny  room.  Good  man,  his  thoughts  were  some- 
what wandering  this  Sunday  morning.  It  was  very 
bright  and  still  without ;  there  were  no  steps  up  the 
village  street ;  the  sunshine  lay  in  broad  patches 
over  the  meadows,  so  fixed  that  it  must  have  fallen 
asleep ;  you  could  hear  the  timid  brook  as  it  whis- 
pered to  the  rushes,  and  the  wind  had  gone  to  rest 
among  the  great  chestnuts,  only  stirring  a  leaf  now 
and  then  to  show  where  it  was.     All  this  could  be 


'^^ 


LEBRECHT  FRIEDEFELUS  TRIALS.        355 

seen  through  the  window — and  the  orchard  blossoms, 
and  here  and  there  a  gable  end,  or  a  chimney  with 
its  tremulous  pillar  of  smoke,  and  the  old  stork 
solemnly  silent  on  the  roof,  and  the  low  wooden 
spire  of  the  church,  half  smothered  in  trees,  and 
beyond,  the  quiet  sky  with  its  blue  depths  and  spots 
of  stationary  cloud.  Moreover,  with  the  sweetbriar 
and  scent  of  limes,  there  stole  into  the  room  a  broken 
murmur  of  prayer  from  a  neighbour's  house.  It 
would  have  been  better  if  the  schoolmaster  had 
thought  of  these  things,  and  not  drawn  the  heavy 
leathern  purse  out  of  his  pocket,  and  emptied  the 
crowns  upon  the  table.  For  his  meditations  became 
worldly,  and  naturally  brought  little  peace  with 
them.  And  I  do  not  excuse  him.  Neither  do  I  ex- 
cuse you,  reader,  for  thinking,  as  you  did,  last 
Sunday,  between  breakfast  and  church-hour,  when 
you  walked  to  the  window  and  found  how  much  that 
young  plantation  had  grown,  or  wondered  how  the 
wheat  would  yield,  or  when  a  remembrance  of  that 
clever  stroke  of  business  last  week  brightened  through 
your  reverie,  or  you  admired  the  wise  discernment 
that  selected  that  pretty  ribbon  you  were  tying,  or  a 
misgiving  came  over  you  about  a  little  bill  that  must 

be  settled,  or  A 's  carriage  passed,  ajid  left  an 

A  A  2 


356        LEBBECHT  FBIEDEFELD'S    TBIALS, 

ugly  rumour  behind  about  his  credit,  and  you  vexed 
yourself  with  the  mysteries  of  bad  debts,  I  do  not 
excuse  the  schoolmaster,  and  I  do  not  wish  you  to 
condemn  him  more  harshly  than  yourself.  It  would 
have  been  better  had  the  money  been  laid  aside; 
but  I  cannot  alter  that,  for  this  is  a  history,  and  not 
a  story. 

"One  quarter's  salary — thirty  crowns.  In  these 
dear  times  that  will  scarce  reach  over  six  weeks,  and 
after  that  I  must  be  content  with  potatoes  till  the 
next  quarter  is  due ;  and  then  the  old  song  begins 
once  more  that  I  have  sung  these  forty  years.  Thirty 
crowns !  And  corn  is  four  crowns  a  bushel ;  and 
meat  is  so  dear,  and,  alas !  the  bones  are  so  large 
in  these  days!  Old  Friedefeld,  it  will  be  a  sharp 
quarter  for  you." 

He  shook  his  head  sadly,  folded  his  hands,  and 

sunk  into  a  profound  reverie,  which,  to  judge  from 

the   bitter  expression   that  played   round  his   lips, 

brought  little  comfort  or  help.     He  was  interrupted 

by  soft,  clear,  flute-Hke  notes  that  rang  out  in  the 

beautiful  hymn — 

**  Leave  God  to  order  all  thy  ways, 
And  hope  in  Him  whate'er  betide  ; 
Thou'lt  find  Him,  in  the  evil  days, 
Thy  all-sufficient  strength  and  guide." 


LEBBECHT  FRIEDEFELUS  TRIALS.        357 

It  was  the  blackbird  from  its  cage  on  the  sunny 
wall;  and  as  it  sang,  the  old  schoolmaster's  eye 
lighted  Tip,  and  the  painful  twitching  about  his 
mouth  changed  into  a  quiet,  happy  smile. 

"Bravo,  bravo!  my  little  blackbird,"  he  cried,  as 
the  song  ended  in  one  prolonged  joyous  note ;  "  and 
you,  old  Friedefeld,  shame  on  you  for  your  weak- 
ness!  Your  God  and  Father  in  heaven,  who  has 
helped  you  in  honour  and  faithfulness  these  forty 
hard  years,  will  help  you  for  the  rest  of  your  days. 
Courage,  man !  though  you  are  one  of  the  least 
workers  in  the  Lord's  vineyard,  yet  will  you  finally 
receive  your  reward.  Will  you  turn  envious  and 
peevish  in  your  old  days,  after  you  have  had  your 
daily  bread  for  a  life,  and  never  gone  hungry  to  bed  ? 
Fie  upon  you,  Lebrecht!  And  that  I  should  be 
grumbling,  of  all  days,  on  this  day  of  the  Lord,  the 
blessed  Sunday,  when  my  heart  should  be  full  of 
thanks  to  our  heavenly  Father !  God  will  make  it 
all  right  in  His  wisdom  and  goodness;  and  so, 
cheerily  divide  the  money  as  far  as  it  will  go.  Thirty 
crowns  !  Let  me  see  :  what  is  to  be  done  for  that  ? 
First  of  all,  I  must  have  a  pair  of  new  shoes ;  for 
these — ah,  the  soles  are  nearly  worn  off,  and  the- 
uppers  are  revealing  notable  rents :  that  makes  a 


358        LEBEECHT  FBIEDEFELD'S  TRIALS. 

crown  and  a  half.  And  then  a  pair  of  new  stock- 
ings ;  for  these  are  visibly  at  an  end,  and  the  velvet 
is  so  faded  and  foxy  that  I  am  ashamed  to  go  up  the 
church.  But— well,  it  can't  be  helped,  a  new  pair 
must  come  ;  and,  with  the  making,  they  cost  summa 
suTnmarum  four  crowns  and  a  half ;  that  is,  in  total, 
six  crowns.  Now  breakfast,  dinner,  and  supper  for 
ninety  days  at  sixpence — cheaper  it  will  not  be,  and 
corn  so  high — fifteen  crowns — make,  together,  one- 
and-twenty,  and  nine  remain ;  of  which  neigh- 
bour Brown  must  have  five  for  potatoes  and  rye- 
seed — remain  four ;  and  the  miller  two  for  last 
month's  meal — remain  two ;  and  a  crown  must 
go  to  old  Ursula,  for  they  say  she  is  so  weak 
and  sick  these  days  ;  and  a  crown  to  Peter  Stau- 
mann,  who  broke  his  arm  on  Friday;  and  a  crown 
to  William  Bartels — poor  fellow,  he  must  eat  a 
good  supper,  for  he  will  be  hungry  after  this  bad 
fever;  and  a  crown  to  David  Smith — his  wife  is 
gone  now,  and  he  will  have  to  sell  their  last  cow 
toward  the  funeral ;  and  a  crown  to  Tommy — 
poor  little  orphan,  who  would  think  it  is  a  yeai* 
since  his  father  and  mother  died  of  the  cholera  in 
'two  days  ? — and  a  crown  for  Widow  Seiler, 
for    she    has    trouble    enough    in    bringing    those 


LEBRECHT  FBIEDEFELD'S  TRIALS.        359 

three   sickly   children    through   the   world;    and   a 

crown " 

Whereupon  the  schoolmaster  suddenly  started, 
and  pursed  up  his  lips,  and  whistled  through  them 
very  gently,  and  a  look  of  comic  helplessness  passed 
into  his  eyes,  and  he  smote  thrice  upon  his  thigh,  as 
if  by  way  of  atonement  for  his  extravagance ;  and 
then  his  voice  ran  on  in  the  same  murmur  as  before  : 
— "Four  crowns  over  already,  and  Jonathan  must 
have  a  crown — my  Jonathan,  my  best  scholar,  my 
successor,  if  the  Lord  will,  and  if  he  has  no  crown  to 
bring  at  the  month's  end,  I  know  how  his  cruel 
father  will  send  him  out  to  herd  geese  upon  the 
common.  Ah,  Friedefeld,  teacher  of  arithmetic, 
what  a  blunder  you  are  caught  in !  Seven  crowns 
over !  And  yet  I  can't  pare  off  a  penny.  Ursula 
Friedes,  Widow  Seller,  Bartels,  Staumann — no ;  they 
all  need  it,  they  w.ust  have  it.  And  neighbour 
Brown  and  the  miller  and  I  must  eat.     I  can  take 

nothing   off,   unless But    indeed   I   do   need 

them,"  he  added  hesitatingly,  and,  sinking  his  voice 
as  he  looked  down  at  the  shoes  and  stockings  that 
certainly  betrayed  a  very  long  acquaintance  with  the 
world,  and  might  fairly  be  called  shabby — "  I  really 
cannot  do  without  them," 


36o        LEBRECHT  FRIEDEFELD'S  TRIALS. 

"And  why  not  ?"  he  added,  after  a  moment's  deep 
pause.  "  Three  months  soon  go  round  ;  and  if  I  take 
care  and  stitch  the  old  shoes  once  more,  they  must 
hold  out.  Poor  people,  they  need  it  more  than  I ! 
Grey-haired  fool  that  I  am,  must  I  be  so  vain  in  my 
old  age,  and  play  the  fop !  Come,  Friedefeld,  to 
work.     Bis  dat  qui  cito  dat!' 

So  saying,  he  took  a  sheet  of  paper,  cut  it  into 
seven  pieces,  wrapped  up  a  crown  in  each,  and 
wrote  an  address  on  the  back.  And  then,  going 
to  the  window,  he  murmured,  "Heavenly  Father, 
let  Thy  blessing  rest  upon  these  mites,  and 
help  me,  Thine  aged  servant,  through  this  new 
quarter ! " 

And  as  he  prayed,  the  blackbird  piped,  "Leave 
God  to  order  all  thy  ways,"  and  the  village,  and  the 
meadow,  and  the  tall  trees  lay  quiet  in  the  sunshine, 
and  the  lark's  hymn  came  dripping  down  from  the 
clouds,  and  the  schoolmaster's  heart  was  moved  to 
gladness,  and  his  care  had  passed  from  him  to  God, 
and  he  felt  all  the  blessing  of  the  morning,  and  his 
face  was  like  a  child's. 

When  it  was  time  to  begin  his  duties,  he  took 
down  the  great  rusty  keys  from  the  wall,  and  walked 
across  the  churchyard  with  a  grave  step,  but  a  bright 


LEBRECHT  FRIEDEFELD'S  TRIALS.        361 

and  joyous  face,  on  past  the  vicarage  till  he  reached 
the  church.  The  bells  rang  out  through  the  Sunday 
calm,  the  street  was  dotted  with  little  groups  of  vil- 
lagers, and  over  the  bypaths  through  the  fields  the 
peasants  came  in  their  best,  the  little  children,  with 
handfuls  of  flowers  that  they  had  plucked  by  the 
way,  for  people  went  gravely  and  leisurely  to  church 
in  Bernsdorf.  And  when  they  had  sat  themselves 
reverently  in  the  high  pews,  the  schoolmaster  sat 
himself  at  the  organ,  and  played  a  wonderful  prelude 
to  the  praise  and  glory  of  the  Lord.  Never  had  he 
played  so  well.  He  took  his  theme  from  the  black- 
bird's piping,  that  had  been  piping  in  his  heart  ever 
since,  and  the  notes  rolled  along  the  vaulted  roof  like 
strong  waves  of  the  sea,  and  then  floated  sweetly 
and  clear  like  children's  voices.  Now  all  the  wood 
seemed  to  whisper  up  its  hymn  through  its  fresh, 
tossing  leaves,  and  the  brook  joined  in  with  its  mur- 
mur, and  many  an  eye  in  the  congregation  ran  over 
with  joy ;  and  when,  at  last,  the  organ  passed  into 
the  grand,  simple  chorale,  and  the  schoolmaster  led 
the  singing  with  a  firm,  hearty  voice,  every  one  stood 
up  and  sang  as  it  had  not  been  sung  for  many  a  day, 
till  the  old  church  rang  with  brave  Christian  hope 
and  solemn  thanksgiving. 


362        LEBRECHT  FRIEDEFELD'S  TRIALS. 

"  Admirable  !  admirable  ! "  whispered  a  stranger, 
simply  dressed  in  black,  half  to  himself  and  half  to 
the  schoolmaster,  as  he  rose  up  from  the  organ  and 
went  forward  into  the  choir  to  hear  the  sermon.  The 
words  met  with  no  other  response  than  a  gentle  nod  ; 
and  the  stranger,  having  looked  at  him  for  a  moment 
with  a  keen,  penetrating  glance,  turned  his  attention 
to  the  preacher. 

The  service  was  over,  the  church  empty,  and  at 
length  the  schoolmaster  came  out,  and  walked  slowly 
back.  It  was  still  early,  about  half-past  ten ;  and  at 
eleven  a  few  boys  dropped  in,  and  sat  down  very 
quiet  on  the  forms  of  the  schoolroom,  and  among 
them  the  stranger  in  black. 

"I  hope  I  don't  disturb  you,"  he  said  apolo- 
gisingly;  "but  do  you  really  keep  school  to-day — 
Sunday — my  good  friend  ? " 

"  Only  an  hour,"  replied  Friedefeld,  who  regarded 
his  little  Sunday  school  with  much  favour,  but  before 
a  stranger  with  some  trepidation. 

"  Is  that  in  the  agreement  ? " 

"  Well,  yes  and  no,"  he  replied  smiling ;  "  it  is  no 
part  of  the  official  duty ;  but  it  is  a  duty  of  the  con- 
science. I  am  here  to  seek  the  spiritual  wellbeing 
of  the  children ;  and  as  for  work,  I  think  one  can 


LEBBECHT  FBIEDEFELD'S  TRIALS.        363 

never  do  too  much,  if  one  is  to  walk  uprightly  before 
the  Lord." 

"  You  are  a  noble  fellow,"  muttered  the  stranger, 
arching  his  brows  in  astonishment ;  and  then,  aloud 
— "  With  your  permission,  I  shall  remain  during  the 
lesson.  I  will  be  no  disturbance.  There,  in  the 
corner,  I  spy  just  the  place  for  me." 

He  sat  down  behind,  and  the  schoolmaster  began 
his  lesson  without  further  delay.  It  was  very  clear 
and  simple  ;  the  children  were  interested  and  atten- 
tive, and  gave  ready  and  good  answers,  and  the  hour 
was  almost  over  when  an  old  dame  burst  into  the 
room,  holding  tightly  by  the  hand  a  pretty  little 
fellow,  who  looked  sorely  downcast,  and  whose  eyes 
were  red  with  crying. 

"  Schoolmaster !  schoolmaster  ! "  she  panted,  and 
her  face  was  glowing ;  "  ha  !  the  good-for-nothing  ! 
the  good-for-nothing  !  ha !  the  good-for-nothing  ! " 
and  her  voice  died  away  inarticulately  in  her  throat, 
where  some  gurgling  sounds  still  kept  repeating, 
"  the  good-for-nothing  1 " 

"What  is  it,  Mrs.  Barber  ?  What  has  your  grand- 
son done  ?  Come  here,  Willie.  Pray  sit  down,  Mrs. 
Barber ;  you  must  be  tired.  And  you,  Willie,  what 
have  you  done  to  your  grandmother  ?    Hide  nothing." 


364        LEBRECHT  FBIEDEFELD'S  TRIALS. 

"  Oh,  the  good-for-nothing !  the  good-for-nothing  ! " 
cried  the  grandame ;  "  he  robbed  a  bird's  nest ! 
Have  always  told  him  it  was  a  sin.  He  had  pandies 
for  it  once.  Must  be  well  punished,  the  good-for- 
nothing  !  To  rob  a  bird's  nest !  Oh,  fie,  Willie ! 
and  I  your  grandmother,  eh  ?  What  a  sin  !  and  on 
the  blessed  Sunday,  too.  Oh,  that  ever  children  were 
bom!" 

"Is  that  true,  Willie?"  said  the  schoolmaster, 
with  a  grave,  severe  face. 

"It — it — it — is,"  stammered  the  little  fellow, 
through  his  tears ;  "  bu — bu — but,  indeed — indeed — 
gr — gr — grandma"  .... 

"  Enough,  Willie ;  Ve  shall  learn  the  whole  story 
when  school  is  over.  And  now,  stand  there,  beside 
the  desk — so.  And,  Mrs.  Barber,  wait  a  moment. 
WilHe  is  mostly  a  good  boy,  but  if  he  has  sinned,  he 
shall  be  punished.     Now,  children." 

Having  stood  quite  still,  the  grandmother  sat 
quietly  upon  a  bench  by  the  window,  and  the  lesson 
was  continued  with  the  same  interest  till  twelve 
struck.  And  when  it  was  over,  and  the  children 
were  out— ''Now,  Willie,"  said  Friedefeld,  "tell  me 
all  about  the  bird's  nest ;  but  let  it  be  the  truth,  for 
you  know  I  hate  nothing  so  much  as  a  lie  ;  for  lying 


LEBBECHT  FBIEDEFELD'S  TBIALS.        365 

is  sin,  and  'sin  is  a  reproach  to  any  people/  as  is 
written  in — where,  Willie  ?  '* 

"  In  the  Proverbs  of  Solomon,  14th  chapter,  thirty- 
fourth  verse." 

"  Well  answered.  And  how  did  it  happen  about 
the  bird's  nest?" 

"Sir,  Bessie  Ritchie's  goldfinch  died;  and  she  is 
sick,  you  know,  sir ;  and  she  cried,  and  I  was  so 
sorry ;  and  I  said  I  would  get  another  for  her ;  and 
then  I  hunted  through  the  hedges  and  garden  till 
I  found  a  goldfinch's  nest  with  four  young  ones, 
and  I  waited  till  they  were  fledged,  and — and — 
ttfen " 

"  Well,  Willie,  and  what  then  ? " 

"  And  then  I  went  early  this  morning  to  take  out 
a  bird  for  Bessie — only  one,  sir — only  just  one ;  the 
beautifuUest,  because  Bessie  is  sick ;  and  just  then 
grandma  came  and  caught  me,  and  said  I  was  a 
good-for-nothing,  and  would  not  let  me  say  a  word, 
but  brought  me  straight  here  to  you,  sir  ;  and  now — 
and — indeed — indeed,  sir,  I  didn't  m'gan  any  Avrong  ; 
and  because  Bessie  is  sick  I  thought  it  was  no  sin  to 

take  one  little  bird,  only  just  one Oh,  sir, 

forgive  me,  or  I  won't  have  a  kind  look  from  grand- 
mother the  whole  week  ! " 


366        LEBRECHT  FBIEDEFELUS  TRIALS. 

"Well,  Willie,"  said  the  schoolmaster,  kindly, 
*'I  see  you  speak  the  truth,  and  that  you  meant 
well ;  so  we'll  not  say  anything  more  about  the 
bird's  nest  this  time.  It  is  right  always  to  try  and 
make  sick  people  happy;  but,  remember,  if  you 
want  to  do  good  another  time,  tell  it  first  to  grand- 
mother ;  and  next  Sunday,  see  that  you  come  here 
instead  of  running  after  birds'  nests ;  and  don't 
forget  to  read  out  of  the  Bible  to  grandmother,  for 
her  eyes  are  not  so  strong  as  yours.  Now,  good-by ; 
and  tell  Bessie  I  shall  see  her  in  the  afternoon." 

But,  as  Willie  slipped  away,  radiant  with  joy,  the 
schoolmaster  said,  softly,  to  the  grandmother,  "Eve^- 
thing  in  measure,  Mrs.  Barber.  It  is  good  to  be 
firm  with  the  children,  and  not  to  spare  the  rod ; 
but  you  know,  Mrs.  Barber,  first  make  inquiry,  and 
then  punish,  if  it  be  necessary.  You  understand 
me?" 

"  Right  well — right  well,  sir ;  and  Willie  is  a 
good  boy,  and  my  heart's  flower,  but  just  for  that 
he  must  never  be  a  good-for-nothing.  Yet  now  I 
know — first  inquire  and  then  punish.  Won't  forget 
it ;  and  thank  you,  sir,  for  telling  me,  and  God 
reward  you  ! " 

As  the  old  lady  left  with  a  profound   courtesy. 


LEBBECHT  EBIEDEFELD'S  TRIALS.        367 

which  was  chiefly  directed  towards  the  seat  she  had 
occupied,  the  stranger,  who  had  been  quietly  ob- 
serving everything  from  his  retreat,  came  forward, 
and  was  about  to  address  the  schoolmaster,  when 
a  succession  of  vehement  tappings  at  the  door, 
followed  by  a  great  shuffling  of  feet,  interrupted  the 
half-formed  words,  and,  before  he  could  go  on,  the 
room  filled  up  with  a  motley  group  of  people,  that 
seemed  to  have  broken  out  of  an  hospital.  Wooden 
legs,  crutches,  arms  in  slings,  and  sleeves  that  were 
armless,  heads  bound  up  with  handkerchiefs,  stooped 
people  and  crooked  people,  had  surrounded  the 
schoolmaster,  who  was  trying  to  make  himself  heard 
through  a  very  Babel  of  voices  and  coughs. 

"  Now,  good  friends,  what  do  you  want  ?  Don't 
you  know  how  wrong  it  is  to  be  out  ?  And  you, 
Stanpily,  with  that  broken  arm,  and,  Bartels — ^you 
ought  to  be  in  bed ;  and.  Ursula — tut !  tut !  Are 
you  gone  mad  ? "  And  then,  thinking  it  was  too 
severe,  he  added,  "Well,  well;  God  bless  you  all 
Sit  down  ;  but  quiet,  quiet — not  a  word  ;  if  you  say 
a  word,  I  shall  get  angry  and  run  away ;"  and,  as 
the  noise  did  not  much  subside,  he  turned  aside,  as 
if  in  gi'eat  wrath,  but  it  was  only  to  rub  his  spec- 
tacles very  hard,  and  let  no  one  see  the  tears  that 


368        LEBEECHT  FBIEDEFELD'S  TRIALS. 

were  making  them  dim.  However,  it  had  its  effect, 
and  they  stood  looking  sorrowfully  down  npon  the 
ground,  and  without  even  a  whisper.  And  now  the 
stranger  came  forward,  and,  catching  Friedefeld  by 
the  hand — 

"  Do  not  take  it  ill,  my  worthy  friend,  but  I  should 
like  to  know  what  brings  these  people  to  you  ?  It 
seems,"  (turning  round  to  the  rest,)  "good  people, 
you  are  very  fond  of  your  schoolmaster  ? " 

It  was  like  opening  a  sluice-door,  such  a  stream  of 
words  poured  irrepressibly  out  of  every  mouth.  The 
faithful  working  of  forty  years  was  revealed,  and 
how  the  schoolmaster  had  nursed  the  sick,  and 
comforted  the  stricken,  and  pinched  himself  to  feed 
the  hungry,  and, — there  never  was  any  one  like  him, 
and  it  was  like  the  sunshine  to  see  him  stepping  into 
their  houses ;  and  for  all  he  was  such  a  scholar,  he 
was  just  as  humble  as  themselves,  and  sure  they 
only  wanted  to  come  up  this  quiet  day  and  thank 
him  for  his  loving  heart,  and  hear  the  blessed  words 
he  spoke  about  the  Lord  Jesus  ;  and  from  lip  to  lip 
his  praise  flew  round,  while  he  stood  by  ashamed, 
and  blushing  as  red  as  a  young  girl,  and  then  hung 
his  head  like  a  poor  sinner  or  thief  caught  in  the 
act,  and  finally  fled  out  of  the  room,  into  the  garden. 


LEBRECRT  FRIEDEFELB'S  TRIALS.         369 

where  lie  walked  up  and  down  between  the  sweet- 
briar  and  laburnums,  wofully  disturbed.  And  there, 
not  long  after,  a  deep,  sweet  voice  spoke  softly  by 
his  side,  "  Oh,  thou  good  and  faithful  servant,  thou 
hast  been  faithful  over  a  few  things,  I  will  make  thee 
ruler  over  many  things  ;"  and,  starting  sharply,  and 
half  frightened,  round,  he  saw  the  stranger  in  black, 
who  continued,  with  a  smile  : — 

"  The  Lord  has  had  some  purpose  in  sending  me 
here  this  day,  and  surely  will  fulfil  this  word  that 
He  has  spoken.  Patiently  and  hiddenly  you  have 
sown  the  good  seed  these  many  years,  and  cared 
nothing  for  yourself.  And  now  it  may  be  the  Lord 
will  give  you  your  reward,  even  on  earth,  and  the 
time  of  the  reaping  is  come.  You  will  hear  from 
me  again." 

Before  the  astonished  schoolmaster  could  answer, 
the  stranger  had  disappeared.  There  was  nothing 
left  for  him  but  these  odd  mysterious  Avords,  over 
which  he  shook  his  head,  and  could  find  no  meaning 
in  them,  and  so,  like  a  wise  man,  soon  foi'got  them, 
and  made  ready  for  the  afternoon  service.  When 
that  was  over,  he  visited,  as  his  custom  Avas,  the 
poor  and  sick  of  the  congregation,  returning  towards 
evening,  somewhat  tired,  but  happy,  and  knelt  in 


370        LEBBECHT  FBIEDEFELD'S  TRIALS. 

his  little  room  with  a  thankful  heart  to  Almighty 
God,  and  did  not  forget  the  stra^nger  in  his  prayer, 
and  then  lay  down  to  sleep  the  tranquil  sleep 
of  the  righteous,  whose  soul  rests  in  the  bosom 
of  God. 

Rather  more  than  a  week  had  passed.  The  shoes 
had  been  stitched,  except  one  obstinate  rent  that 
refused  entreaty,  and  the  well-known  stockings  had 
been  seen  again  at  church — I  question  if  the  honest 
villagers  would  have  liked  the  new  ones  half  so  well 
— and  the  blackbird  was  piping  to  himself  before  the 
school  began,  when  there  came  a  clatter  of  a  horse's 
feet,  and  the  express  postman  rode  straight  u]3  to 
the  window,  and  reaching  in  a  packet,  cried,  "Nothing 
to  pay,"  and  rode  off  before  Bernsdorf  had  time  to 
take  in  the  astounding  fact,  though,  on  reflection, 
it  would  have  admitted  that  the  king  himself  might 
correspond  with  its  schoolmaster.  Friedefeld  con- 
templated the  packet  from  all  sides,  and  ended  mth 
the  superscription.  It  was  addressed,  "  Lebrecht 
Friedefeld,  late  schoolmaster  in  Bernsdorf"  No 
mistake  then  about  the  person.  But  "  late  " — and 
he  turned  it  round  again,  and  looked  at  the  seal.  It 
was  the  official  seal  of  the  Board. 

"Late!"  he  cried,  in  alarm.     "Will  the  gentle- 


LEBRECHT  FBIEDEFELD'S  TEIALS.         371 

men  in  town  really  drive  me  from  my  post  ?  Though 
my  hair  is  grey,  body  and  spirit  are  active  still. 
Late  !  Ah  !  what  news  lies  under  this  great  red 
seal !  Well,  whatever  happens,  everything  goes  by 
God's  will  and  grace." 

So  saying,  he  broke  the  seal  hastily,  but  his  hand 
trembled,  and  a  dark  mist  drew  before  his  eyes.  A 
paper  fell  out — another — then  a  third.  Catching  at 
the  first,  he  spread  it  open,  stole  one  glance  at  it, 
became  white,  and  sank  back  into  his  chair.  "  AVas 
I  not  right  ?  Who  could  have  thought  it  1  My 
dismissal !  Graciously  indeed,  but  Avithout  a 
word  about  pension.  Cast  as  a  useless  servant 
out  of  the  vineyard,  where  I  have  worked,  and 
sow^ed,  and  planted.  That  is  hard ;"  and  a  tear 
slowly  filled  his  eye,  and  stole  down  a  furrow^  in 
his  cheek. 

"Leave  God  to  order  all  thy  w-ays,"  sang  the 
blackbird,  who  was  watchinsc  intentlv,  with  head  on 
one  side,  and  evidently  felt  the  gravity  of  the  situa- 
tion, "  and  hope  in  him,  whate'er  betide." 

"  Right,  right,  my  pretty  blackbird — well  spoken  ; 
but  truly  my  mind  is  troubled,  and  needs  every 
comfort.  0  Lord  my  God,  how  hast  Thou  laid  this 
sore  burden  on  Thy  servant  ?  " 


372        LEBEECHT  FRIEDEFELUS  TRIALS. 

"  What  ?  Murmuring  I — sad !  What  is  this  ?  " 
said  a  familiar  voice  ;  and  the  schoolmaster's  eyes 
fell  upon  the  stranger  in  black,  who  had  slipped 
into  the  room  unnoticed.  "  Read  on,  Lebrecht 
Friedefeld.  If  the  Lord  takes,  can  He  not  also 
give  ? " 

Seizing  the  second  paper,  the  schoolmaster  read — 
"  Wh — ,  what  I "  he  stammered,  with  altered  face. 
"  Chief  organist ! — Income,  four  hundred  crowns  ! — 
I,  old  Lebrecht  Friedefeld  I — I  to  play  that  glorious 
organ  in  the  cathedral,  finger  it,  unlock  its  heavenly 
music  ? " 

"  Certainly ;  but  read  further,  you  faithful,  old, 
God-fearing  man.     There  is  another  paper." 

Friedefeld  took  it,  unfolded  it  with  unsteady 
fingers,  and,  as  he  read,  his  eyes  fairly  ran  over  with 
tears,  and  he  looked  up,  speaking  in  broken  words  : 
"  Too  much — too  much  goodness,  0  Father,  for  Thy 
sinful  child !  Lord,  how  is  it  possible — how  shall 
I  believe  it — that  I,  the  old  village  schoolmaster, 
shall  be  rector  in  the  capital,  with  eight  hundred 
crowns  a  year !  I,  the  poor  schoolmaster !  No, 
it  is  a  dream.  My  thoughts  must  have  got  con- 
fused." 

"  No  dream,  but  reality,  m}^  dear  rector  and  chief 


LEBBECHT  FBIEDEFELD'S  TRIALS,        373 

organist.  You  are  wide  awake,  and  hold  the  proof 
of  your  good  fortune  in  your  hands;  for  you  will 
observe  that  these  papers  are  made  out  and  con- 
firmed by  the  Board  ;  and  see,  there  is  your  name. 
So,  now  you  must  be  happy  ;  for  God  has  appointed 
you  to  a  place  where  you  can  do  much  to  His 
glory." 

"Hosanna!  Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul !"  And, 
after  a  pause,  the  schoolmaster  added,  "  Just  permit 
me  one  question.  How  have  I  deserved  this  in  my 
humble  position  ?  " 

"  Remember  the  parable  of  the  Lord  that  is  writ- 
ten in  Matt  xxv.  14 — 30:  'Well  done,  good  and 
faithful  servant ;  thou  hast  been  faithful  over  a  few 
things,  I  will  make  thee  ruler  over  many  things  : 
enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord.' " 

'"  But  you,  sir,  who  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  ?  I  am  one  who  went  out  to  seek,  and  whose 
stej)s  God  guided  till  he  found.  I  am  Bishop 
Weilert,  from  the  capital.  The  seminary  needed 
a  head.  I  made  long  and  fruitless  trial,  and  what 
I  could  not  find  in  honour  I  sought  in  lowliness, 
until,  at  last,  my  feet  passed  over  your  quiet  tliresh- 
old.  There  I  found  what  I  sought :  ti-ue  fear  of 
God,   true  righteousness,  true   humility,    and  faith 


374        LEBRECRT  FBIEDEFELUS  TRIALS. 

and  piety  to  do  the  good  only  for  the  good's  sake, 
and  not  by  order  of  the  commandments  ;  true  hus- 
bandry, true  self-denial ;  and  I  said  in  my  heart, 
This  is  the  man !  I  hurried  home,  and  related  to 
the  prince  what  I  had  seen,  heard,  and  observed. 
He  received  my  words  graciously,  and  here,  my 
worthy  rector,  is  the  result — not  of  my  words,  but  of 
your  life." 

The  two  men  grasped  each  other  by  the  hand  ; 
tears  stood  in  their  eyes ;  and  Friedefeld  spoke — 

"  Glory  be  to  God  in  the  highest !  Bless  the 
Lord,  O  my  soul,  and  all  that  is  within  me,  bless  His 
holy  name  ! "  But  the  blackbird  only  sang  its  clear 
steadfast  words — 

"  Leave  God  to  order  all  thj'  ways, 

And  hope  in  Him,  whate'er  betide  ; 
Tliou'lt  find  Him,  in  tlie  evil  days, 
Thy  all-sufficient  strength  and  guide." 

This  is  my  story.  It  happened  in  the  village  of 
Bernsdorf,  on  the  borders  of  Silesia.  If  you  wiU  not 
believe  me,  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  travel  there 
(it  is  a  beautiful  country,  and  as  they  say  in  it, 
"  very  friendly,")  and  satisfy  yourself  Old  Ursula  s 
cough  is  worse,  perhaps,  but  no  cough  will  ever 
prevent  her  telling  you  of  all  that  came  to  pass  out 


LEBRECHT  FRIEDEFELD'S   TRIALS.       375 

of  that  Sunday  morning  not  so  many  springs  ago. 
And  if  you  go  to  the  rector  himself,  you  may  have 
the  story  from  his  own  lips.  He  is  simple  Lebrecht 
Friedefeld  still. 


THE    E^D. 


.-    i 


